The Tennis Match
by anja-chan
Summary: A friendly game of tennis turns unexpectedly too friendly between Yzak and Dearka. So naturally, Shiho gets thrown into the mix, and although no one is sure of the recipe, something is definitely brewing. Warning: there's YAOI.
1. Chapter 1

_Well, the sad part is that I actually came up with the idea and wrote the first chapter in early June. It came about because I was staying in Japan and my host sister was part of the tennis club. Because I don't play tennis and I couldn't interrupt them as they were training too much (they were nice and let me learn a little), I learned instead how to juggle tennis balls. When even that lost it's appeal, I began writing out story ideas in the sand on the court. Thus this story was born... although the locker room here in the story is entirely of my imagination._ _Please enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter One: Tennis and Towels**

* * *

"You know I haven't played tennis since junior high, Elsman." It was a statement, but from the pale youth, it sounded more like an accusation.

"Well, lucky I played last week then," the tanned blond said, smiling, "Perhaps we'll be even then. I'll make it worth your time, Mr. Tennis Champion."

Despite how it was logically a compliment in Yzak's favor, Dearka had used his special way of voicing it to sound like the opposite. Yzak blew out a puff of angry air. Dearka was definitely the same teasing grinning idiot, even though the two had not seen each other for two months.

Dearka took his racket from its protective bag and stepped on to one of the gym's tennis courts. Yzak did the same, grabbing two tennis balls. He shoved one into his shorts pocket.

"You are such a loser," Yzak grumbled before raising his voice to be heard on the other end of the court, "I'm aiming for your face!" His eyes narrowed suddenly, his concentration absolute. He gripped his racket firmly in his right hand, his left twisting the ball until the brand name was readable, then gave it a quick toss. At the apex of the green ball's arc, Yzak took a jumping step forward as he simultaneously swung his racket overhead. He served.

And hit the net.

"Well, looks like you need some work on you aim, sharp shooter," Dearka called out, chuckling.

"Shut up!"

His outburst attracted the attention of the next court, four girls playing doubles. They cast quick glances to the good-looking male duo, made 'mmm-hmmmm' noises to each other and went back to their game, although with less concentration. The two soldiers, however, for all their training in being constantly alert and perceptive, failed to notice. They were busy arguing over the serve.

"I should get the serve, Yzak, you screwed up."

"Everyone is allowed a retry for their first serve!! And I haven't played for six years!!" Yzak was fuming, but he since he had the, well, balls at the start of the game that left Dearka at Yzak's mostly non-existent mercy.

"Just gently toss the ball here so I can—"

Yzak whipped the little green ball from his pocket and tossed it high into the air where it collided resoundingly with his racket. The force of Yzak's blow sent it speeding centimeters over the net, bouncing once, and straight into Dearka's unsuspecting left kneecap. Yzak smirked in triumph as his best friends cried out, clutching the sore joint in shock and more than a little pain.

"I said _gently_, Yzak!!"

The pale boy just continued to smile as Dearka limped awkwardly over to where the ball had ricocheted from his now-bruising knee back into the net. He stooped to pick up the object of his agony, and straightened to look Yzak directly in the eyes. The silver haired youth blinked, his lips losing their upward lilt in the deadly glare from his best friend.

"That's it, this is war," the blond said seriously. Yzak's cocky smirk widened as Dearka tossed ball back to him.

"It's your serve, Joule."

* * *

"I guess once you learn something, you don't forget it," Dearka said, gesturing back with his racket to the now empty court. Yzak finished his date with his water bottle, carefully screwing the cap back on tightly before answering.

"As you should remember I'm always better than you," Yzak condescended, before adding his afterthought, "At everything."

"Not _everything_," Dearka intoned, using a voice the spoke of an old and virtually endless argument.

"I could care _less_ about flirting, Elsman," came the sharp retort. Yzak dropped his water bottle into his gym bag and set out for the locker room. Dearka laughed.

"Well, I do." Yzak did not bother holding the door open out of disgust for his womanizing friend's remark. Dearka caught the door with one hand just before it closed and made his way in regardless.

Yzak already had his shoes, socks, and shirt off, his slender torso slick with sweat from their tennis exertion. Dearka smiled inwardly, realizing how much Yzak must have had to work to beat him. Yzak may have been the junior high tennis champion of Martius City, but Dearka was not too shabby at the game either. He set his gym bag down on a bench and then himself next to it. Wrinkling his nose, he carefully took off his tennis shoes and socks, then grabbed his towel, making sure to snap Yzak's exposed side with the end first.

_THWACK!_

"What the fuck?!" the pale boy began in irate tones, turning to see Dearka too-innocently wiping his neck and face with the offending material.

"Hmmmmm?" Dearka asked, trying his best not to smile. Or burst into fits of hysterical laughter as Yzak turned scarlet with rage. Dearka quickly began taking off his shirt, the better to hide the grin creeping onto his face.

_THWACK!_

Dearka tore the rest of his shirt off just in time to see Yzak grinning sadistically and readying his towel for another go. The blond swiped up his own towel and dashed out of immediate range.

Yzak followed doggedly, the hunter in pursuit, his weapon cocked and ready. Dearka ran, shirtless, but not towel-less, and was glad that they had been the last men in the gym and the only ones in the locker room now. If anyone came in now... they would find his former commander chasing him like a Blue Cosmos member on steroids but with a black and white checkered towel instead of a stolen GUNDAM. Dearka suddenly skidded to a halt in front of the showers. Yzak followed suit, a towel length away. The silver-haired youth fired first, and Dearka barely managed to dodge in time, the checkered towel skimming his tanned side. He took the opportunity to move in closer and attack while his opponent was reloading.

_THWICK!_

Not getting a clean blow, Dearka retreated backwards, but found his back suddenly against a wall with a faucet handle poking into his spine uncomfortably. Yzak smiled, triumphant, and closed in, towel at the ready, his body sweaty again, his respiration coming in short, but even breaths. Dearka let one side of his towel drop from his hand as if in defeat. Yzak took his chance decisively and rushed in with a victorious cry.

_THWACK!_

His towel hit Dearka firmly in his tanned abdomen, just as his de-toweled hand turned the shower knob on, drenching them both in water that quickly heated up. Apparently, the handle had been for only the hot water. Yzak froze, his eyes boring straight into Dearka's brain as the water slicked his fine hair to his head and face.

"Damn you!" he cursed and took a step back to escape the water's onslaught and the destruction it could do to his hair, but Dearka quickly whipped his towel around Yzak's back and caught the other end, trapping the smaller boy and pulling him in closer.

"Now try getting a—" he began snarkily, but was interrupted as Yzak's feet lost their purchase on the wet tiles, and he fell unbalanced, knocking them both to the ground. Luckily for Dearka, Yzak, now spread-eagle on the floor, had cushioned his fall... mostly. The blonde's muscled arms were pinned underneath the weight of both of them and caught slightly in his wet towel. He was sure his elbows would show bruises for at least a day because of the throbbing they were both going through.

For some reason, Dearka also felt himself caught by two very icy blue eyes. With that realization came the sudden awareness of his position of highly intimate contact with the lighter male. The water from the shower pattered on his exposed back, running in rivulets down his sides to where it met Yzak's slick skin. The only things between them were their gym shorts and enough warm water to create a very slippery situation. Then Yzak took a breath, heaving with the weight of his larger friend above him.

Both sets of eyes went wide a s the small movement caused a dramatic shift of their two bodies. Dearka gasped instinctively at the pleasurable sensation of sliding over the smaller boy's skin. Yzak's eyes held a dazed look, different from anything his friend had seen before in all the years they had known each other. Longing? Or just confusion... but then Yzak took another breath, and Dearka's caught in his throat where it quickly plummeted to the pit of his stomach.

He slipped again, his body pressed to the smaller boy's, closing his eyes and letting out a soft moan before he could stop himself. He suddenly felt two hands on his back, gripping tightly and for a moment feared he would be thrown off and shoved viciously away, but the fingers only tightened their grip and pulled Dearka closer. Obviously, Yzak did not want to end such a satisfying experience either, and squirmed slightly under the blonde to get more contact, eliciting another moan.

He suddenly felt a hot wetness encompass the hollow above his shoulder bone. Dearka sucked on the spot lazily, using his tongue in small circles and finding his partner deliciously salty. The male below let out a groan that bordered on a whimper. The hands tightened even further, fingers digging into Dearka's wet back.

The blond, encouraged further and entirely lost on what he was actually doing, bent his head and trailed splotches of wet fire across Yzak's chest with his lips and tongue. The rest of his body created the slippery friction.

Yzak let out an aching moan and dragged his fingers up until they were tangled in wet blonde hair. He let his fingers caress Dearka's scalp in erratic muscle contractions, spurring Dearka on to tantalizing heat from his mouth.

Unable to take too much more at present and not used to being the subordinate, Yzak seized a better grip in the blond mass and forced him into a deep, penetrating kiss. It was rough and forceful on impact, but became gentler as their tongues darted in, exploring each other's tastes. Both males found themselves groaning into the other's mouth, wanting more.

"Hey, is there anybody still in here? The gym's closing now! Hurry up and pack your stuff, I'm gonna need to clean the place before I lock up!"

The gruff voice of an older man, undoubtedly the janitor, echoed through the blank minds of the two men sprawled on the floor. It seemed to kickstart their brains and they jumped apart, suddenly finding themselves not so trapped by each other, and got to their feet. Neither looked the other in the eyes.

For a few awkward moments, nothing changed except for the color of Yzak's face. Then Dearka swiftly reached out a hand, and Yzak flinched back, but Dearka only switched off the shower. He then turned and marched briskly to the gym towel rack and seized two. He thrust one back at Yzak wordlessly, who still looked a little confused by Dearka's sudden and purposeful actions. He opened and closed his moth several times, but the pale wet youth could not quite figure out exactly what to say until he had followed the blond to their bags. Yzak planted his feet firmly and forced eye contact.

"That did not happen," he stated, giving Dearka his commanding commander stare. His sharp features held an expression of calm suddenly as if he had just figured out all he had to do to make one equal two was to begin with two. A simple solution.

Dearka just stared.

"What?"

"I said, that did not happen."

"Uh,... well, Yzak, it... uh..." Dearka began, feeling a little like lying is wrong, but not actually wanting to admit what had just happened. He looked down at his feet and busied himself with drying off. Somehow, giving voice to it would make it very real. And then he understood Yzak completely. He looked back up, purple eyes meeting blue.

"Right," he agreed conversationally, "I mean,... what happened?"

"Exactly, Elsman."

There was a short awkward pause.

"Let's get out of here," Yzak muttered hastily. He crammed the wet towel into his bag and pulled on a clean shirt. Dearka was forced to follow suit or be left behind as Yzak strode out the door. Dearka took a deep breath.

"Right. Nothing happened."

* * *

_Alright, thanks for reading. Now, this first chapter is entered in a contest between myself and two other friends (unless I write something I think fits better into this category and change my mind), so please after reading (and reviewing??) go check out whether they have posted their contest fics. See Tobi Tortue and The Angelic Demoness for more good Yzak/Dearka-ness. And hopefully, I'll be faster at updating things soon. _


	2. Chapter 2

**The Tennis Match**

**Chapter Two: Engagements and Enragements**

* * *

"_EMOTION! Kitto kono sora wo…"_

A dark skinned hand reached out from under the quilt and fumbled for the singing cell phone. Once it found its prey, the hand retreated back into its den of pillows and blankets.

"Hello?" It was obviously the voice of someone who had been recently awakened.

"You're still _sleeping_, Elsman?!" shouted the fiery reply. Dearka winced, causing the quilts to bare his blond head.

"_Was, _Yzak. Was sleeping," he clarified, stifling a yawn. He cleared his throat of that morning phlegm sound before continuing wearily, "What's your problem this early in the morning? Are we still hitting the gym this afternoon?"

"I _can't, _Elsman," the soldier bit off caustically. Dearka sat up; something unusual was going on.

"I can come over. You at the hotel?"

"No."

Dearka waited for a reply that did not come. He sighed into the phone, wishing Yzak would not be so difficult or… just maybe wishing his former commander knew the meaning of the word 'helpful.'

"So where are you, Yzak?" Dearka asked patiently. The response was slow in coming.

"Hahnenfuss's apartment."

"Why are you at Shiho's?" Dearka asked, getting suddenly highly suspicious. His gut tightened uncharacteristically. There was no way the two of them… not that he cared, but…wasn't it illegal in Terminal, like Z.A.F.T., to form relations with a subordinate? But then again, Lacus Clyne and Kira Yamato were really the ones in charge...

"I needed to talk to her."

Dearka's butterflies calmed down, and he realized what an idiot he had been. Yzak and Shiho? Really, either of them with a significant other seemed scary.

"Ah, your military stuff. I see, and it doesn't make me feel bad about sticking to Z.A.F.T. in the least."

"No. We need to crash a wedding," came Yzak's straightforward reply, shocking Dearka. He sat up straighter, letting his cream colored quilt expose his torso.

"A wedding? Yzak, that's the most terrible thing I've ever heard you say! And that's saying something. Whose wedding?"

The response was cold, heartless, and frightening. "Our own."

Dearka was out of bed, dressed, and on his way to Shiho's apartment before anyone could say 'Buster's balls!'

* * *

"Look, sir, we've been over this before," Shiho explained carefully, although the strain was beginning to show in her eyes, "It was your mother's idea. My father simply agreed to it. If we want to end this engagement, sir, we need to go to the source." 

Yzak glared at her from across the small kitchen table, refusing to answer. Shiho sighed, exasperated. She reached for the coffee pot, but stopped once she realized it was as empty as her mug. She looked back across the table to her sullen leader and the coffee he had not touched. He was beginning to really irritate her.

"Talk to your mother, commander!"

Yzak just continued to glare.

"Look, do you want to marry me or not? Because I was under the impression we were not planning on fulfilling _that_ mission," Shiho changed halfway through her sentence from poisonous mockery to her usual crisp and formal tones, as if they were again aboard their battleship.

"Of course we're not getting married!" Yzak shouted, standing so abruptly that his chair fell over backwards. The angry youth did not seem to notice the innocent furniture's downfall. "But you don't seem to understand, Hahnenfuss, no matter how many times I say it, is that no one can walk up to Ezaria Joule and tell her for no apparent reason that people don't want to do what she has proposed! Least of all me!" He began pacing vengefully, resembling a caged panther… or snow leopard, Shiho revised, noting his pale complexion. She cleared her head by blinking twice and focusing on Yzak's face. She really needed more coffee to deal with this.

"Well, sir, we _do_ have a reason."

Yzak stopped pacing and pivoted to face her. "What?"

Shiho gave him as much as she dared of that look which means 'stop-being-so-thick-and-use-your-brain.' "We don't _want_ to marry each other. All we have to do is threaten our parents with saying 'I don't' and causing a scandal."

Yzak blinked, but his eyes stayed narrowed and his lips pressed together in a thin line. "Didn't I just say we need a reason?!"

Shiho opened her mouth for a response, but a pounding at the door interrupted her.

"That'll be Elsman," Yzak said, turning his back on her and striding towards the door. He flung it open to reveal a slightly disheveled Dearka who had obviously just run up the three flights of stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. As Dearka came in, Shiho used the opportunity to start brewing more coffee, although she was really hoping that Dearka would be able to convince the stubborn silver-haired man to face down his own mother.

"Um, hi Hahnenfuss. It's been awhile," Dearka greeted her, feeling awkward. He had never been great friends with the woman who had replaced him as Yzak's right hand man, not that he begrudged her the position, just that he had not served with her very long. And he had always been sure he should be wary of the only woman who had worn red Z.A.F.T. pants rather than the pink skirt because her jacket was so long and she would have looked like she was wearing nothing else. _(If confused, see AN at bottom.)_

"It has, and I suppose you may call me Shiho. But let's get to the point. Commander Joule called you here because we thought you could help. Please convince him of the need to speak with his mother in order to end this fiasco," Shiho commanded, her dark eyes boring into him with blunt force, rather than the piercing glares he was used to from Yzak. He felt very much put on the spot and decided to sit down, searching for a chair to buy himself time. He gave a funny look at Yzak as he plucked a chair off the ground, righted it, and sat.

"Why his mother?" Dearka hedged, understanding only that he was in the middle of a battle of wills between Yzak and Shiho and that neither would ever forgive him if he took the other's side. Caution was necessary, along with all the facts.

"The arrangement was her idea and she holds the most power in this situation. My father simply agreed to the match and backing out now could only be seen as highly disrespectful and our families might enter some sort of feud," Shiho responded succinctly. Dearka gulped, realizing the situation was more delicate than he thought, and if Ezaria Joule was responsible….

"Well, I don't think complaining to Mrs. Joule will get us anywhere," he began carefully. Yzak shot Shiho a superior and quite malevolent look, his equivalent of the 'I-told-you-so.'

"Wait, why not?" Shiho objected, frustrated.

"Hahnen—, I mean, Shiho," Dearka corrected himself, "Have you ever spoken with her?"

Shiho shook her head, confused. "But I still don't agree with your—"

"Then you won't understand," Dearka cut in, thinking about the times he had visited the main Joule household. Even the butler had been intimidating, and Ezaria Joule ruled all her estates with an iron fist. He could only imagine it being worse, now that she no longer held a position on the council to exercise her abilities. And disagreeing with her? The thought had never crossed his mind while in her presence. "What we need to do is make her change her mind on her own. If she knows her decision is unpopular, she'll only push it harder. Well, that's how my dad complained when they worked on the council, anyway."

Yzak nodded, fully vindicated. Shiho, on the other hand, was revising her opinion of agreeing to let Yzak's best friend help them. Apparently, both of them were spineless in the face of an authority figure, despite their previous records from the Bloody Valentine Wars, and Dearka would simply agree with anything Yzak told him.

"So, what do you suggest to make her change her mind? 'On her own' as you put it?" Shiho asked a little condescendingly. Yzak took a seat and looked over too, interested in the blonde's reply.

"Um, well, I hadn't gotten that far yet," he admitted, "But at least we know where we're starting from."

Shiho exhaled impatiently, suddenly feeling immensely tired. The bell from the coffee machine dinged suddenly, and she felt that it was her cue to leave. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, commander, I would like to refill my coffee cup."

Yzak nodded at her dismissively. Dearka watched her go, and then picked up Yzak's cup. It was still full and he took a careful sip, before spluttering most of it back.

"Dearka, that's disgusting," Yzak said disdainfully. His nose wrinkled in distaste as the blond coughed and pretending to choke melodramatically.

"No, _that's _disgusting," Dearka replied, gesturing at the coffee, "It's cold _and_ it's black."

Shiho returned in time to see Dearka wiping his mouth and setting down the mug. He was still grimacing, but quickly changed expressions once he noticed Shiho entering. He coughed discreetly in an effort to hide his face, causing Yzak to nearly smirk. Shiho, on the other hand, nearly groaned. There was no one to bring out the inner irritating child in someone like Dearka Elsman.

"What, not ashamed that you just had an indirect kiss, are you?" Shiho asked Dearka, misinterpreting the reason he was wiping his lips. Her voice sounded more like she was trying to tease him about his well-known womanizing, but mostly like she was just very tired. She sat down in her seat and took a sip of her refilled coffee cup.

"Um, I wasn't aware that I had kissed anyone," Dearka said uncertainly. His eyes flickered unconsciously to Shiho's lips. Yzak took the opportunity to hit him on the back of his head.

"Ow! What was that for?" the blond asked, rubbing his head and rounding on his pale and grumpy friend. Shiho watched them, an unreadable expression on her face.

"Don't even think about messing with her, you idiot! She's actually still my fiancée," Yzak grumbled, eyes menacing. Dearka gave him an appraising look.

"Well, I had no idea that you intended on marrying her, commander, not that I was thinking anything like that anyway," he said quickly, but his amethyst eyes twinkled mischievously before adding, "Yet."

"Excuse me?" Shiho interjected before Yzak could even raise a finger. Her voice was low and cold enough to make Dearka freeze in his seat. Even the coffee had been warmer and sweeter. Yzak was staring at Dearka like he was some kind of foreign alien as well.

"No, no, it's not what you're thinking," Dearka said hastily, "It's just that if we two are already involved or something, then it would be a great excuse for the two of you not to get married."

Shiho's eyes narrowed. "One, we are not involved—"

"We could pretend—" the blond began persuasively, before he was interrupted by Shiho's authoritative voice.

"And two, I have better taste."

Dearka's reply got stuck somewhere between his brain and his throat, producing only an open mouth. Even Yzak looked stunned that Shiho would so brazenly admit that Dearka as a boyfriend was, judging by the look on her face, against her ethics.

"You just have to pretend for a few months or something, Hahnenfuss," Yzak growled. "Then you'll never have to speak to each other again, and we won't have to get married."

"No, sir. I refuse," the woman responded automatically.

"What's the big deal? I'm not that terrible, I promise," Dearka said dryly.

Shiho stood and turned to face him. "You don't understand how your reputation would affect mine. It's easy for you; you're a man. I can't be so easy-going about relationships, or…" she trailed off, searching for the right words. How exactly was she supposed to explain that everyone in the PLANTs would assume she had lost her womanly virtue to Dearka Elsman?

"Oh," Dearka replied simply. Apparently, her explanation had been sufficient for the blond playboy. Yzak, on the other hand, still looked like he had not yet grasped the situation. He looked between his current second-in-command and his former one, his expression demanding an answer. Neither met his ice blue eyes.

"Okay, I get it," Dearka said, looking only at Shiho, his voice serious and calm. He took a steadying breath before continuing. "And I wouldn't ask you to do something that could damage your future chances." His expression lightened up and he gave her a smile, "That's why I'm here, right? So you do have a future chance?"

Shiho suddenly felt a little flustered with Dearka looking into her eyes and giving her a little half-smile. She could see why so many women were attracted to him, despite his uncaring and flippant attitude. Still, she doubted she would ever find him attractive as a partner.

"Right," she answered, tearing her eyes from Dearka's and looking at Yzak.

"But it was a good idea, anyway," Dearka continued, "All you need to do is find someone else to date. And, well, I'm sure there are lots of guys who would want to get to know you better, Hahnen— I mean, Shiho."

"Maybe," Shiho responded quietly, still watching Yzak. The silver-headed man was listening intently to Dearka's plan. Another was forming in the back of Shiho's mind.

"What do you mean 'maybe?' C'mon, you're intelligent, beautiful, not to mention rich and powerful." Dearka ticked off each factor on a finger. He looked to Yzak for help.

"You should do it, Hahnenfuss," Yzak said in his Commander Joule voice. It left little room for argument. But Shiho knew the room was there, and despite Dearka's acknowledgment of his own reputation, they were only men and could not understand Shiho's precarious position. And it was precisely because of all the reason's Dearka had just given. Women in her position had to keep themselves from scandal, and picking a random man off the street to date seemed worse to her than marrying Yzak Joule.

"Sir, I must disagree. I have no intentions of dating anyone, similar to how I don't intend on marrying you. If I were to pretend to date someone, they would most likely find it deceitful and cruel, and how would I be assured that he would not tell my father or your mother? Also," Shiho went on, cutting off Dearka's protests and Yzak's comments before they had really begun, "As soon as I stopped dating, we would most likely be in the same position. The other possibility is that I would be told to end any relationships and marry you regardless of how I felt."

She was met with silence. No one moved for several seconds until Dearka picked up her coffee mug and took a sip carefully. Once he realized it was still warm, he took another, more confident mouthful. Shiho watched him, bemoaning her existence, and let out a sigh.

"Els— Dearka," she corrected herself, before trudging on wearily, "Why are you drinking my coffee? You just promised you would not mess with my reputation and now I find you are trying your best for an indirect kiss? Wasn't Commander Joule enough?"

Dearka spluttered again on coffee. Yzak's own head shot up, eyes boring into her as if they could pierce right through her skull.

"Indirect kiss?" the blond man managed. He refused to look at Yzak, knowing that the memory of the locker room was resurfacing despite their best efforts. Shiho looked bemused with a hint of wariness, no doubt from Yzak's intense gaze.

"Certainly you would know what it is?" Shiho asked, "When one person drinks from the same cup or bottle as another?"

"Oh, right," Dearka replied, relieved. He forced his face into a lopsided grin. "That's what you meant earlier. Ha, like I would want to kiss Yzak." He paused, and then filled up the awkward silence that followed. "Sorry about your coffee, Shiho, Yzak's was just really cold earlier. That's why I was drinking it. Because it was cold."

Yzak threw a look at him that clearly meant 'shut-the-hell-up.' Dearka got the impression that he was not doing as good a job of forgetting that a specific thing had once happened and that if he did not stop babbling, he would make Shiho suspicious. He took a breath and relaxed into his normal persona. Yzak's narrowed eyes reduced their glare a little. Shiho noticed, not for the first time, how Yzak and Dearka had always been able to speak to each other without using words. Something close to an idea sat up and stretched in the back of her mind. She was watching Yzak again.

"I know what we can do," she began slowly. Her eyes flicked once between Yzak and his best friend.

"Get me some hot coffee of my own?" Dearka asked, only half joking.

"Not that," she replied quickly, but she still kept her deadly focus and calm on her commanding officer and his handsome pale face. "I can't do this because I care about my reputation and women are viewed differently in society, but…"

"But what?" Dearka asked. Both he and Yzak were now well aware that she had had a breakthrough in the marriage plot and were listening intently.

"Well, there's certainly nothing Mrs. Joule can say about this. She would be forced to give up the marriage. And no one would blame her. And it's actually, well, believable," Shiho thought aloud. Her idea was giving her strength through her exhaustion.

"Just tell us the plan, Hahnenfuss," Yzak instructed, clearly disliking being in the dark.

"You can't blame me, you were the one who asked for Dearka's help, saying he'd do anything to help us…" she trailed off unhelpfully.

"I would," Dearka murmured, "If you would just tell me what to do." Yzak looked ready to kill.

"I can't pretend to date anyone, but you can, sir," Shiho began. "And I believe you should pretend to be in love with Dearka."

Stunned silence.

"It makes perfect sense. Your mother wouldn't make you marry me if you were gay, even if she is as fanatical as you say she is," Shiho continued on in the echoing lack of sound.

"We don't have any better ideas, either. I think that you two should do it."

"Do what?" Dearka said quickly, snapping out of his brain shutdown.

"Pretend to date." Shiho smiled sweetly and Dearka suddenly got the suspicion she might know. But how? Nobody but him and Yzak knew, and he knew Yzak would never tell. He would have to be careful, even if she were just guessing. If he reacted too strongly, it would seem defensive and like he had something to hide. Dearka forced his heart to slow down. She did not know and he had to play it cool. Dearka turned to give Yzak an appraising look.

"Well, Shiho, you've got an interesting idea. I suppose it would work to stop Mrs. Joule, but you're forgetting that it's well known how much I prefer women." He smiled seductively at her, glancing quickly at Yzak who wore a blank mask.

"So?" Shiho countered, ignoring his blatant hot stare. "You could be bisexual."

"No," Yzak said suddenly and decisively. "I won't do it."

"Commander, I think it's either this plan or you speak directly to your mother. I've been thinking that I don't feel like being a part of a deceptive conspiracy. I have more to lose if we're caught. It's much easier if I deny knowing you were gay. Besides I wouldn't have to lie to say I know you two are very close."

"We are not that close, Hahnenfuss," Yzak bit off dangerously. His eyes were fiery, but not in the way Dearka's had been. Shiho suddenly felt afraid and realized she was treading highly unstable ground. Dearka read her sharp intake of breath as another clue to her understanding. With seeming sudden clarity, Dearka realized the only way to make Shiho believe there was nothing between them already was to agree to her plan.

"You're right, Shiho," Dearka said thoughtfully. "It would work."

Yzak stared at him as if he had just sprouted antlers. The silver-haired youth stood, causing another casualty among the furniture and backed away from Dearka. Why did Dearka look like he was pleading with his eyes? He couldn't really want… Yzak's thoughts trailed off, edging away from the abyss.

Dearka turned to Shiho, deciding he could convince Yzak if the two were alone and able to discuss the thoughts racing through Dearka's head about Shiho's perceptiveness. "I'll talk him into it. Don't worry about anything. I wouldn't let him marry someone he doesn't want to. You too."

"I'm still here! Don't talk like I'm not, Elsman!" Yzak shouted furiously. His fingers were curled into fists, barely within the range of normal human color. His face, however, was tingeing scarlet with either rage or embarrassment. Seeing as how the latter caused the former, all that mattered was that the silver-haired commander was now livid. Shiho took an unconscious step back, even though the rage was directed at Dearka.

The tanned man, however, seemed unruffled by Yzak's outbreak. He gave Shiho a devilish wink, overacting his playboy status and stood, nearly bumping into the vengeful pale demon breathing down his neck. Shiho seemed to calm a little once she realized Dearka was not the least bit worried about her commander's attitude. She let out the breath she had not realized she was holding, as Dearka turned to go.

"C'mon, Yzak, we can discuss the details oursel—"

The fist slammed into his jawbone with enough force to knock the bigger man to what would have been the floor, if the wall had not been so close in the cramped apartment. Suddenly much better friends with Shiho's building, Dearka kept a steadying hand on it as he reoriented himself enough to stare at Yzak, a little befuddled. He kept blinking to keep his vision from spinning, but it did not matter because the only thing he could really focus on was Yzak standing several feet away, his chest heaving and a sleeve rolled up. His face wore a strange mask of calm, but Dearka could pick out the dangerous glint of anger in his friend's iceberg eyes, and recognized Yzak's stance as being superbly balanced, ready for more action. Shiho was standing in the entrance to the living room, having moved there to stay clear of what she figured would be a full fight in which she did not wish to involve herself. Obviously, she believed Dearka was in the right, but she could not attack her own commander. She crossed her fingers, hoping nothing in her apartment would get broken beyond repair.

Dearka rubbed his jaw, as the world slowed to a halt. Forcibly relaxing his stance until he was leaning against the wall, he smiled ruefully and heaved a theatrical sigh, rolling his eyes a little for the effect. He crossed his tanned forearms across his chest. "Honestly Yzak, do you think that was really necessary?"

His tone and demeanor seemed to catch Yzak off guard. Somehow, it always did whenever the situation seemed beyond the point of no return.

"Of course it was, you bastard," Yzak retorted hotly. Like usual, he was not backing down and both knew he would never apologize. But the tension in the room had suddenly vanished.

"Well, I think that this meeting went relatively well," Dearka continued sarcastically while Yzak eyed him dangerously. The blond gave another sigh, this one real. "Look, Yzak, you and I can discuss options somewhere else if Shiho isn't being reasonable."

He glanced at Shiho who was still standing stalk still halfway in the kitchen and the living room. For the life of her, she could not understand how Dearka saw her as unreasonable, when Yzak had been the one to punch him. There was definitely something about the two that she did not understand. They had been fighting, and now they were closer than before. Men. She realized that Dearka was still watching her, expecting some kind of answer.

"That's correct. I think you should both leave before any damage occurs in my apartment. I have sponsored two ideas, both of which you have objected to. Dearka has managed one idea that would not end my problems, and you commander have yet to come up with a single possibility. You may return to speak to me if you think of anything new. If anyone asks, I will tell them I have not spoken with you since the, ah—" Shiho grimaced at the unfamiliar word causing all their problems "—engagement."

"Very good," Dearka replied, even though she had been mostly speaking to Yzak. Dearka gave her a flirty smile, suddenly realizing how well he would have worked with her if he had moved into Terminal instead of staying in Z.A.F.T. "Yzak, I think we should leave the woman in peace. I think she could use her beauty sleep."

Shiho gave Dearka a patronizing look. "I hardly think I need it when I've had this much coffee. And I believe you were the one who was still sleeping when this meeting began, Elsman."

"Ah, the woman teases back!" Dearka said, pretending to be shocked. He was still wearing a sexy smirk. Shiho was entirely unflustered, but Yzak hit Dearka in the back of the head again.

"Stop flirting, idiot," he muttered, "She's still my fiancée even if I don't want to marry her and we're getting out of here before I have to watch any more of your absurd antics."

Dearka flashed a dazzling smile at Yzak. He smiled prettily. "Anything you say, sweetheart."

Yzak grimaced and raised another fist. Shiho tensed as if she were about to be struck, even though he was obviously aiming at the taller blond.

"We're leaving," Yzak growled, storming out of the kitchen and striding towards the door. Dearka gave Shiho a conspiratorial wink, and she realized he had been acting to piss Yzak off only in order to get him out the door and give her peace of mind. She gave him an appreciative smile that seemed to surprise him. He followed Yzak out the door and down the hallway, running to catch up with Yzak's quick stride.

Shiho suddenly raced to the door, unable to resist one last call for all the trouble Yzak had just put her through and feeling strangely triumphant knowing that for once, Dearka was on her side. It was probably just the effect the blond had on people.

"At least try to hold hands!"

* * *

AN: just a note for people who might not know, although if you are reading this, I assume a basic knowledge of GUNDAM Seed; the longer the coat, the better you did in training at ZAFT. It has nothing to do with actual size of the person. Don't worry, her coat doesn't get in her way because of the length… the skirts are just really short.

* * *

_Ah, done and the longest chapter I believe I've written. It might not be as, erm, interesting as the first, but there is actually plot so I can continue the story. Please keep reading, and don't feel shy about dropping a review if you have time. I found it really difficult to write Shiho because so little is actually known about her character, so if you have any suggestions (i.e. whether you thought her character jumped around from formal to teasing too much/too quickly (personally, I'm just putting down my poor writing to her lack of sleep XP)), please critique me! I hope you enjoyed it!_


	3. Chapter 3

**The Tennis Match**

**Chapter Three: Shapes and Salmon**

* * *

"Did she say it was _believable_?!" Yzak growled angrily. Dearka glanced at the clock above his sofa. Yzak had now been complaining for almost two hours straight. Dearka, on the other hand, had resigned himself to the task that he and Shiho had agreed to. He supposed it must be easier for him than Yzak because he was far more experienced in love and knew how to act the part. That and his lack of shame for anything he did relating to romance. Yzak, however, had never dated as far as Dearka knew, preferring to spend time working his way up through Z.A.F.T.'s ranks and plotting to maim his biggest rival, Athrun Zala. He supposed that Yzak had been tackling these same goals in Terminal in the last two months, although he was working through Terminal's ranks and Kira Yamato was his biggest rival now. 

"Look, Yzak, it's not like you care what people think anyway," Dearka told him. Somehow his tone was still affable, even though he had begun thinking about his own reputation as a ladies' man. "I'm probably going to regret this more than you."

Yzak shot him a look of loathing more deadly than a bullet. "_You_ think this is funny."

Dearka paused, thinking. Yzak's statement had caught him a little off guard, but on a deeper introspection, Dearka realized that Yzak was right. He _did_ think it was terribly amusing to be fooling so many people. The two of them could, and most likely would, become the PLANTs most interesting new couple, complete with the poorly photoshopped front-page pictures in the tabloids. This subterfuge had even more potential than the infamous "Hooker War" of his Z.A.F.T. training days. (AN: see bottom) But this time, Dearka would be at the center of attention, a place he rather liked being. He could not help the impish grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Yzak's complexion quickly phased right through red and into a paler white, while his eyes seemed to narrow and bug out at the same time. Dearka watched passively as Yzak opened his lips to begin his angry tirade.

"What in all the fucking PLANTs do you think could even _begin_ to resemble amusing about this, Elsman?!"

Dearka watched a tic form in Yzak's left temple. "Uh, your expression?" he hazarded. Then he ducked as one of Yzak's shoes flew through the space his head had just vacated.

"Stop joking around, you bastard!"

Dearka raised his head and sighed. Sadly, Yzak was right and he needed to quit making Yzak's temper worse or he would be in need of a new best friend. He decided to change the subject.

"What do you want for dinner?" he queried innocently, catching the pale man off guard.

"What?" Yzak snapped.

"Dinner. You know, the meal people eat around this—"

"I know what dinner is, Elsman," Yzak retorted hastily, "I thought we were going to the Thai place."

Dearka thought for a moment. Yes, a public dinner date may as well be a good place to start. He figured Yzak would probably never get around to actually thanking him for helping to fend off the marriage, but at least his pale friend might appreciate it and Dearka supposed that was the best he could hope for. The blond leaned back into his leather sofa, making himself comfortable before answering. "Sure, the Thai restaurant it is."

* * *

The curvy waitress smiled, her cheeks forming dimples. Even Yzak was forced to admit to himself that she was good at faking a genuine smile, as she asked if they were ready to order, her voice tinkling like wind chimes. Yzak groaned inwardly as Dearka flashed a smile just as fake and genuine as the girl's. 

"We're going to start with the crispy fried wanton —excuse me— _won_tons," the blond said carefully, his amethyst eyes never leaving her jade ones. A reddish tint began to creep towards her dimples. Dearka continued with the order as if he had not deliberately made the slip, "And we'll split some chicken coconut lime cream soup." He paused as she scribbled something down, although it was probably their order. "And for my course, I'll have chili basil noodles."

"And what level of spiciness do you want?" she asked, still writing on her notepad, so that she was unable to see Dearka's eyes flash dangerously. "There's mild, medium, hot or extra hot. "

Dearka looked across the table in their booth to Yzak as he thought. His face suddenly took on a determined expression and he smiled roguishly as he tilted his head up to look at their waitress.

"I'd like it extra hot."

The waitress smiled back at the tanned man, her lips curving that extra stretch that made Yzak realize she was indeed smiling genuinely for the first time that night. Somehow Dearka usually had that effect on other people. Yzak, however, nearly gagged at his friend's blatant womanizing, but luckily the noise only sounded like he was clearing his throat. The waitress looked to him hurriedly, a sheepish blush forming on her cheeks. Her eyes were expectant and she held her pen poised over her notepad, ready to begin jotting down his order.

"Salmon panang. Hot."

"Anything to drink?" she asked sweetly, looking back to Dearka.

"Strawberry bubble tea," Dearka responded instantly, holding the woman with his luscious eyes. He then turned to Yzak and licked his lips as if he could taste the delicious drink already, unless he was thinking about tasting something else. "With those tapioca... balls."

Yzak's eyes narrowed as the girl blushed a delicate shade of pink, unable to remove her eyes from the blonde's seductive smile. Why did Dearka always insist on flirting with whatever girl looked his way? It wasn't until then that Yzak realized that while his friend was still staring ardently, it was no longer at the waitress in her traditional Thai attire, no, but those liquid purple eyes were intense on Yzak's face, as if he were drinking in every detail of his pale friend. Yzak held back a caustic snarl, refused to let his breath and heartbeat to speed up, and instead forced his eyes to his drink menu in an attempt to peruse the possible refreshment options. He suddenly did not want to contemplate whatever game Dearka was playing at.

"I want a Thai iced tea," he said, not looking up to face either the blushing waitress or Dearka's steamy eyes. He felt, more than saw the girl shake herself out of some kind of fantasy as she hastily wrote their drink orders, retrieved their menus, and swept away from their booth. Dearka gave a little chuckle, and when Yzak looked up angrily, he saw the blond wearing a bemused expression, eyes wistfully following after the flustered waitress.

"There's nothing funny about ordering food, Elsman."

Dearka turned his gaze to Yzak, but his expression remained unaltered. "I agree."

There was silence as Yzak took his napkin out from around his silverware and placed it on his lap. He looked for chopsticks, but finding none, he just gritted his teeth. Dearka tried not to laugh at his friend's unspoken plight, as the warm lighting played off the pale youth's silver hair. If he unfocused his eyes, he could almost pretend Yzak were a girl, but then again, Yzak's masculine shape, even blurry, was rather familiar to Dearka. He had never mistaken Yzak for anyone other than the overworked Type A commander he was, although certainly everyone knew the resemblance he shared with his mother extended into their similar personalities. So, it should not be impossible to imagine Yzak as a girl… Dearka's thought processes actually kicked in at the image that refused to create itself. Scratch that idea, it was impossible and there was no way in hell he would even contemplate dating a younger Ezaria Joule. Dearka sighed.

He would have to try to play his part harder, or else Shiho would be caught up into this marriage match also, and well, Dearka thought dryly, no girl deserved to be stuck with Yzak.

"Dearka, will you stop staring at me?!" Yzak hissed suddenly, leaning over the table and snapping the taller man out of his thoughts.

Dearka leaned closer, mimicking Yzak's pose, but whereas Yzak was tense and ready to spit fire, the blond relaxed into a casual lounge. His eyes were still on Yzak, but they shifted from his hair to drift slowly down to his sapphire eyes. He let a single word fall lazily from his lips, "Why?"

Yzak did not miss a beat, and seemed to have missed Dearka's efforts. "Those stupid waitresses are all standing behind the counter blushing at you, so when you look at me, they look at me and I don't need that kind of crap. I just want food."

Dearka surreptitiously peeked over at the giggle of waitresses. Indeed, they were watching him and Yzak while trying not to, the sure sign they were interested. But, both him _and_ Yzak? Usually, girls would simply gravitate to the single man they all believed to be the most attractive and attracted, which Dearka was convinced was often himself. Even so, he'd just been concentrating on the space between Yzak's hair and eyes for the last five minutes, and they were obviously closely huddled over the center of the table, not giving off any of the signs that broadcasted come-join-us-we're-single. In fact, Dearka was trying to body-language the I'm-so-interested-you'd-better-look-away-from-us signal. It took several more moments even for the experienced man to realize that that was why they were staring intently. Of course women would understand what he was trying before Yzak would grasp it with his limited social skills, and he supposed it was the women's equivalent of how men enjoyed watching lesbians. With new understanding, Dearka looked back to Yzak. He let his gaze smolder.

"So… you're just… hungry?" Dearka tried again, putting every ounce of innuendo into his voice. Yzak gave him an incomprehensible look and Dearka simply gave up. Trying to be subtly sexy for Yzak was like hoping a polar bear would suddenly understand the spoken word. He would have to hope some kind of opportunity would present itself.

As he was finishing his chili basil noodles, it did. The pretty waitress had returned with refills, and was watching them furtively. Yzak was blatantly ignoring her, Dearka, and pretty much everything besides the salmon panang left on his plate.

In fact, Yzak even failed to notice the bit of salmon that was not on his plate until Dearka reached out across the table and plucked it off his face. Something like shock registered on his pale features, eyes wide and staring straight ahead as Dearka popped the fishy morsel into his mouth. The strawberry bubble tea was set down with a wobbly plunk, before the waitress left hastily, trying not to trip over her own feet.

Yzak's eyes alone moved to Dearka's mouth, his head perfectly still, his expression unchanging. Some part of Dearka's brain, probably his instinct for survival, whispered that this was not a good idea, but the tanned blond knew he could not resist finishing what he had started. The reaction was deeply ingrained in him to the point where it did not really matter who he was sharing a meal with.

Slowly, with the utmost precision, he licked his lips. He let his tongue slide smoothly over his upper lip first, before pausing in the corner where he pulled it back in, leaving his mouth open slightly, before beginning again on his lower lip. When he finished, he exhaled while shifting back to lean against the booth, and pulled his lips together in a satisfied smirk.

Yzak was as still as a statue, frozen so completely for a moment that Dearka knew the room had plunged to absolute zero. Like ice over a volcano, the moment shattered in an eruption.

"What the _fuck_ was that, Elsman?!" Yzak snarled. Dearka did not answer, but looked frantically for the waitress.

"Check please!" he called as he caught the eyes of four of them simultaneously. Knowing an explosive situation when they see one, the check appeared as if by magic and disappeared with Dearka's credit card, only to reappear seconds later while Dearka was still fumbling with a tip. Yzak's glare was possibly melting the receipt, or possibly the pen Dearka was using to sign with. It was that or Dearka's hair would soon be on fire, but he did not dare to look up, because that would mean acknowledging that Yzak was demanding an answer. And, if only for Yzak's own sake, would he not truthfully answer in public. That would mean scrapping the only plan the conspirators had thought up

Dearka pulled his coat on and grabbed Yzak's, holding it out to him without making eye contact. Yzak's arms made no motion to take the jacket, but like a magnet, Dearka's eyes were slowly pulled up to his best friend's face.

The impression was terrifying, like facing down an avenging angel of destruction. Luckily for Dearka, however, it was a familiar masculine face that he could not see with any other body, have it wings or no. On impulse and realizing that no matter what, it would always be Yzak, he seized a pale wrist and ran out of the restaurant.

A block later, he heard a familiar shout. Stopping abruptly, and turning, Dearka found himself face to face with a pretty woman, with long dark hair. It took him several moments to realize that is was Shiho in the blue skirt and that she was looking at his hand. Dearka instantly dropped Yzak's wrist just as Yzak yanked it fiercely away. The effect was the sort that shouted secret lovers, so that Shiho found herself giving the two an appreciative smile with her reflexive salute.

"Commander. Dearka. Good to see you two are following through."

Yzak gave her a wild look, but Dearka stepped easily in front of him, blocking Shiho's view.

"Well, as long as you keep up your end," Dearka said cheerfully.

"My end?" Shiho asked, a little confused, but not really showing it.

"You should, well, publicize this in a way. To your parents. Otherwise, they won't know, and the plan doesn't really work."

Shiho thought critically for a moment. "I'll say I have suspicions."

"Good." There was a pause, in which Dearka looked Shiho up and down and then winked. "I have suspicions, too."

Shiho blinked, caught off guard. Did Dearka think she liked Commander Joule? Of course, Yzak was good looking, and talented, but she had never really considered him. When she actually thought about the man Yzak, rather than the simple idea of being forced to marry anyone, she realized he was well respected, fiercely loyal, highly practical, polite if not always kind, and… her fiancé, but that did not mean she wanted to be. After all, she was trying to prevent herself from being married away, wasn't she?

"Stop flirting, Elsman!" came the shout that resounded enough to make passer-bys look at the three of them. Shiho turned faintly pink as she realized Dearka must have been hinting at himself, not Yzak, by her side. Or wherever Elsman figured he should be in relation to her body.

"Well, I, uh, really should be going; I have an appointment," Shiho said hastily, losing a bit of her crisp militaristic tones. She held up her left wrist and checked her watch obviously. "Yes, it's already two-forty, and I need to be, um, gone, I mean, at my appointment; it's in twenty minutes."

Dearka watched her go, as Yzak glared at innocent bystanders in the opposite direction. He was given a wide berth.

"I certainly am not staying either," Yzak said angrily, still facing the other direction. "We can hang out when you're not pretending to be in love with me, Elsman."

The pale youth stormed off into the busy street and was soon lost among the crowd. Dearka barely noticed, still wondering if every man felt this way if he managed to fluster Shiho Hahnenfuss.

* * *

AN: if you're interested in the Hooker War, please read it from Tobi Tortue. It's hilarious. 

_So, yeah, much apologies for it being terribly short and it took forever for me to finish writing, but for my excuses, I got writer's block and was either busy or lazy and couldn't figure out where to add in Athrun, so really ended up not writing him in at all. Sorry, try the next chapter? Hopefully it'll come sooner. Oh, and thanks to Yumenonozomi, Sirith, shogi, SlvrSoleAlchmst1, blinkie, and Yammit for reviews on the last chapter. I woke up super early and your reviews are what tipped me over the edge into writing this morning. Um, especially Yammit, because I think you were the only one to tell me what you didn't like/what could be fixed. Hope everyone enjoyed  
this chapter!_

_anja-chan _


	4. Chapter 4

**The Tennis Match**

**Chapter Four – Lust and Love**

* * *

Yzak had quite suddenly discovered that his arms were pinned to his sides and he was staring into liquid purple orbs. There was something there, underneath the fluid gaze that whispered faintly of fire. Once he realized this, the eyes gave off a distinctly steamy air, and Yzak's breath quickened like he was accidentally inhaling the smoke from those blazing eyes. His brain tried to catch up and decode the reason, but in vain as the luscious eyes drew him in deeper. Yzak leaned in closer, unable to resist the temptation. 

The lips that met his were surprisingly warm and gentle. He closed his eyes and let out a throaty moan before realizing that he had, knowing he should feel embarrassed, yet somehow failing in that regard. He was too involved in the delectable moistness and heat beginning to probe his mouth, too wrapped up in the feel of strong hands sliding down his arms. Yzak felt a shudder of pleasure wrack his body and he strained forward somewhat clumsily until he could feel his partner's fabric pressing into his chest. Letting out another moan as hands began roaming his body, Yzak threw his head back in satisfaction. Hot kisses next sprawled across his exposed neck, causing Yzak to writhe and gasp.

Yzak brought his head up again, panting for another intrusion into his mouth. It was without shock that he saw his blond subordinate smirk and lean forward, smoky eyes gently closing as he took his commander's mouth. Only a small alarm bell began to ring somewhere in the far corner of the silver haired man's mind, but he paid no attention to it, relishing the pleasurable sensations his friend was giving him.

Lifting his delicious lips away, Dearka took a step back and gave a lazy smile. Slightly irritated, Yzak could only guess that the blond was admiring his handiwork, seeing a flushed Yzak practically begging for more. Unwilling to plead to his subordinate, Yzak decided he was not going to be pushed around. Refusing to become Dearka's toy, Yzak let out a low growl and lunged at the blond.

He fell out of bed in a massive tangle of sheets and a quilt. His slender arms were still pinned to his sides, wrapped tightly in a sheet that was damp with sweat. Yzak let out a short yell of embarrassment and frustration. What the _hell_ had he been dreaming?!

As he began to carefully untangle his body from the blankets, his mind roved back to his dream. He tried to go over it carefully and without emotion, replaying scenes as if he were an observer. Unfortunately for the sweat-slicked pale man, the need for a cold shower was quickly becoming apparent, no matter how detached his mind was telling him to be. Groaning, Yzak threw his bedspread back where it belonged and stalked down to his bathroom.

He stripped carelessly, letting his clothes rest where they fell haphazardly on the tiled floor. He twisted the shower knob and stepped in quickly, letting the cold water do its two jobs: cooling down his lower extremities while waking up his upper.

As the last remnants of dream-fog left his brain, Yzak knew it was time to begin analyzing. With an annoyed sigh, he stuck his head completely in the way of the cold faucet, allowing his hair to stream around all sides of his head. Obviously, his dream had something to do with how Dearka had acted at the restaurant. Suddenly a flash of a different shower, one with hot water and a half-naked Dearka jumped into his mind. Yzak quickly banished it, trying to keep his thoughts in check. But, despite how much he had refused to think of the incident, Yzak knew that it was partially to blame for his erotic dream. Yzak slammed a fist into the wall where it slid among the water droplets more than connected with the actual tile. He was suddenly ferociously angry. How had all this confusion happened? Why was he dreaming about sexual escapades involving his best friend?

Needing someone to blame, Yzak naturally pointed a finger in his mind at Dearka. Obviously, Dearka was the one at fault: causing Yzak to have these weird dreams because he had been eating food off his face and making all other sorts of sexual innuendos. And then there was that time… Yzak forced his mind a little unwillingly back to the locker room. That had definitely been Dearka's idea.

But even Yzak knew that he was still partially to blame. He could say that he was only dreaming about it because of how Dearka was acting, but then again, he had seen Dearka act that way with a number of girlfriends. With an almost sickening wrench to his gut, Yzak realized that the only difference was that Dearka's formidable charm was aimed at him. Whether the blond truly meant it or not did not matter at this point. Yzak was still finding himself incredibly vulnerable to it.

Yzak's stomach took another plummet as he realized what was really going on; he had never been very good at lying to himself and had never approved of doing so. A groan issued itself from between his thin lips.

He was falling in lust.

* * *

"Don't think I don't know the _real_ reason why you asked me out to coffee, Dearka Elsman," Shiho said a little haughtily after they had taken their drinks back to a small corner of the coffeehouse. She took a sip, wincing slightly as her tongue burnt, imagining her taste buds black and shriveled. 

Dearka raised his eyebrows in an innocent expression, yet somehow there was no genuine innocence visible. "Real reason? Only the one I mentioned to you on the phone."

Shiho gave him a flat look that plainly said she did not believe him, then sighed as he busily went about putting creamer into his cup, effectively ignoring her gaze. She should really focus on the business part of things, and ignore whatever attempts at seduction the man might throw her way. She refused to feel flattered that Elsman, of all people, had actually realized she was a woman. She decided to ignore his attempts to the point of seeming completely dull. Hopefully that would make him realize he would never get anywhere.

"Of course." Her voice was all business, crisp and to the point. "Then you have some sort of idea?"

"I said so, didn't I?" Dearka replied a little cheekily. Shiho refused to rise to his bait or sink to his level, opting for a simple stare that only left room for him to elaborate.

"So the original plan is really that _you_ don't find anything wrong with Yzak, am I right? It just happens that he's gay, so you can't marry him. But if you don't know that yet, you would try to act as a real finacée, right?" Dearka had paused in his monologue and was obviously waiting for some sort of affirmative from Shiho. While his speech was confusing to the point where she began to wonder how he gave reports to Z.A.F.T., she had managed to follow enough to understand that Dearka wanted her to act like Yzak's finacée. She nodded slowly.

"So, if you found out your fiancé was seeing someone else, how would you feel?" Dearka asked, sitting back in his chair and sipping his coffee. He looked satisfied with the problem he had posed for her. Shiho, on the other hand, was nonplussed.

"Relieved? I suppose most people would feel angry if that happened, but I don't think I would feel terrible if Yzak dated someone else," she stated thoughtfully. "Should I be angry?" Dearka looked somewhere between crestfallen and hopeful, which is to say he was nodding encouragingly with a bit of a deflated expression.

"Well, everyone thinks this is a normal engagement and you two are happy, right? That means you _should_ feel angry if, er, _when_ you find out that he is dating someone else."

There was a dramatic pause, or at least Dearka was trying for one. He held his posture perfectly still and tense, hoping that the mood would catch on. Shiho was watching him with only a mild interest. Dearka finished with an arrogant curve of lips and speech before she could say anything and ruin his theatrics.

"I think we should have a fight. Over Yzak."

Shiho blinked, and managed to smother an impolite and uncharacteristic giggle before it did more than make her thin lips twitch. The blond looked too proud of his simple idea, a cocky smile perched on his lips. Coupled with the actual words that had left his mouth, Shiho found the entire situation rather comical. Although, that was probably why Dearka was grinning too.

"You only want to do this for the publicity, don't you, Elsman?" Shiho asked exasperated, taking his opportunity for an answer as an excuse to take a sip of coffee. Honestly, did he expect her to think this was flirtation?

"Publicity?" Dearka repeated. He paused, looking thoughtful, then broke into a massive grin, showing off his straight white teeth and laughing not-quite-silently. "Yeah, well, I can't go to all this trouble and not have Ezaria Joule find out, right? And besides, the way it's going currently, I'm going to be dead before… well, let's just say it'll be really soon."

He smiled helplessly across the table to Shiho who found his obvious amusement almost contagious. She allowed him a small smile, then shook her head slightly in hopelessness, pretending to be unaware of how Dearka's eyes followed the swishing of her dark hair even though she found it slightly irritating. She wondered when he would figure out his usual tricks were of no use against her or whether her seeming unconscious refusal only made him try harder. Unfortunately for Dearka, it was a rather conscious refusal because Shiho could see right through him; it was the blond that did not understand his tactics were too obvious for the perceptive member of Terminal.

"What you mean to say, Els--, Dearka, is that you need to—"

"_We_ need to," the tanned man clarified, leaning forward urgently. He tried to hold her with his liquid purple eyes to no effect.

"—_we_ need to make a scene so Mrs. Joule will discover her son is gay?" She set down her coffee cup.

"Well, yes, but I say 'we' because Yzak himself isn't helping much. I figure it's your wedding too, so you should also help out if you want to stop it. _Especially_ if Yzak is being this stubborn." Dearka took a deep breath and leaned back. "So, if you agree to help, I've got a plan."

Shiho sighed, understanding that whatever the ex-Buster pilot had decided on would be juvenile and force them to work together in some way. But she could not ignore that fact that Dearka Elsman knew more about romance psychology than either her or Yzak, realizing she should give his ideas at least some credibility. Then again, his motives were probably more closely aligned with romancing _her_ because she was the closest available female. She heaved another sigh and nodded agreement.

"Great!" Dearka said cheerfully, "Here's the plan: we find some public venue where I'll be with Yzak. Then _you_ show up and it looks like—"

"_EMOTION! Kitto kono sora wa yume no katachi…"_

Dearka flinched and pulled his cell phone from his pocket, looking down at it guiltily. He mouthed 'sorry' to Shiho before flipping it over and checking the call. However, after doing so, his eyes lit up and a terribly criminal smile spread onto his face.

"It's Yzak," was all he said before opening the ringing plastic device and answering. His awful smile was still in place.

"Hey, Yzak," Dearka began into the microphone. Shiho watched and listened to Dearka's one-sided conversation about a park at first, but soon the other people in the small café caught her attention and she began people-watching. There was a man in a brown shirt with a scone. Oh, and a young woman just walked in hurriedly and waved to a rather good-looking man in the corner. He set down his newspaper and gave the woman a quick peck on the cheek before she sat next to him. Shiho was not a fan of overt public displays of affection, but a quick kiss or hug was perfectly acceptable for her refined standards. She continued surreptitiously watching the couple as she sipped her now-lukewarm coffee, wondering whether she felt jealous of them or not. Here she was with a self-professed playboy trying to get out of a marriage to an ambitious Type A maniac. As the light glinted off the young couples' wedding rings, Shiho decided she would rather be the woman on the other side of the room. At least she looked happy. Perhaps it would have been easier to simply marry Yzak Joule even if he _was_ a maniac… at least then she could have made him buy her coffee or something. She wondered vaguely if becoming Yzak's wife would mean she would have any sort of control over the fiery tempered pale man. She doubted he would let her tell him what to do, but perhaps he could be convinced into buying her dinner or an expensive combat knife….

"Shiho?" The blonde's low voice snapped her out of her thoughts in an instant. His face was perhaps two feet away from hers, peering intently into her eyes. She lifted a hand to brush him away.

"What is it, Dearka?" But even as she said it, she had a kind of sinking feeling in her stomach; the dark smile was plastered across his face.

"We're going to meet Yzak at the park on Pine Street. I think I'll buy him ice cream or something." Shiho nearly winced. The way Dearka enunciated his words made it sound like an elaborate metaphor for murder.

"Yes? You sound like you have something else in mind," she asked, carefully keeping her voice firm and mild. Her mind was still on the combat knife and whether it would be useful in a situation like this.

"Oh, well, that's what _I'll_ do. _You_ are going to do something completely different, Shiho."

Shiho knew she was being ridiculous, but something about Dearka's smile made her stomach clench. Despite how his smile supposedly made women drop at his feet, Shiho doubted this was the smile they saw. She got the distinct feeling that Dearka was not trying to charm her currently, but was much more intent on playing his prank. She felt like she had suddenly joined a mob, cursing herself for only being able to nod like a pathetic rookie faced with orders from a five-star general.

"You see, Shiho, Yzak won't know you're there. And he doesn't know that you'll be devastated when you find out I'm on a date with him."

Shiho inhaled a steadying breath of air as Dearka's smile made a subtle change from malicious to his more natural teasing smirk. He stood up from his chair, taking his empty coffee cup with a lazy hand. She relaxed without really realizing that she was tense and then actually thought about what Dearka had said. He reached for her wrist, helping her to her feet.

"I'll explain as we walk," Dearka replied to her unspoken question and the panicky glint to her eyes. Shiho hated not knowing exactly what the situation was before entering.

It was promising to be an interesting afternoon as long as the commander did not choose to murder her and Dearka. Or strip her of her rank and standing in Terminal. Or shout that he would never date Dearka Elsman. Or say he would rather marry Shiho Hahnenfuss. Or simply explode with curses. And in such a public venue.

How in the PLANTs had Dearka managed to get her into such a mess?

* * *

_Okay, in answer to questions: yes, I have decided pairings, but I'm not telling yet because the characters themselves are still working through their own feelings. I think that is what makes this such an interesting fic; how falling in love (or lust as it may be) is such an unsure and shaky process. How many times have any of you readers wondered if you really liked someone??_

_Yeah, and Athrun WILL definitely show up in the next chapter. Sorry Tobi Tortue, he's on his way._

_Thanks to reviewers Yammit (for catching mistakes!), Yumenonozumi, Housenka (for being honest enough to say it's confusing – hopefully the prospective pairings are making more sense), shogi, Tobi Tortue (for making sure I made Shiho better flustered), passer-by, SlvrSoleAlchmst1 (for inspiration that we seem to pass back and forth) and MyraHellsing. Thanks so much guys! Please keep telling me how to write better!!  
_


	5. Chapter 5

**The Tennis Match**

**Chapter Five: Ice Cream and a Dead Dream**

* * *

What in all that was good in ZAFT was taking Elsman so long? Yzak was getting impatient, now that he had not only decided to tell his best friend that he needed to sleep with him—at least once to make the pale man stop thinking about it—but he had also actually called the blond bastard and arranged the time and place to meet. So why wasn't Dearka in the damn park already?

Yzak ran a hand through his silky silver hair angrily and squinted across the grassy manicured lawn. There was a family with two small children having a picnic on a blanket, several couples holding hands and just strolling lazily around, and a few people waiting in line at an ice cream vendor. Yzak nearly grimaced at the seemingly blissful sunny day; he just needed to get this over with and then go home… hopefully with Dearka.

His mind drifted back to his dream and he felt his face flush slightly. He shook his head to clear it and when he lifted his eyes back up, he finally saw Dearka Elsman, but the man wasn't alone.

It took Yzak a few moments to realize that the woman that was trailing after him was none other than Shiho Hahnenfuss, his finacée. Yzak felt his temper flaring. Now was not the time he was supposed to be dealing with the girl he didn't want, not when he had called Dearka out here to tell him he wanted sex just so he could get over this affliction that had begun that day in a locker room after a simple game of tennis. His silver hair shimmered as he tossed his head, reflecting the rays of sunlight coming through the PLANT's thick walls. He would just have to let Shiho know that they could talk later. After all, wasn't the plan Dearka was so proud of that the tan man would be with _him_ and not his finacée?

Dearka must have spotted Yzak's figure from across the grass, because he tugged on Shiho's arm and pointed at him. Yzak felt sick suddenly, realizing that Shiho and Dearka looked just like the other couples surrounding him. That bastard was taking _his_ fiancée on a date at the moment he was pretending to be in love with Yzak and when Yzak felt such lust for his dark-skinned body. He really was an incurable playboy… maybe Yzak should just let his infatuation with his best friend pass without doing anything. Sure, it might take longer, but then again, if anyone ever found out that he really found his former subordinate so attractive… well, his life would be more or less over. He would probably never make that council position he so wanted later in life if all of PLANT thought he had been sleeping around throughout his years in ZAFT. And the media or an opposing party would be sure to make those kinds of allegations.

As Dearka and Shiho approached, Yzak suddenly reversed his earlier decision. He couldn't tell his best friend even though he knew Dearka would not breath a word to anyone. It was just so obvious that Dearka was in love with the feminine gender that he could never consider Yzak as an option, and well, Yzak didn't really consider Dearka a viable option for anything other than a best friend with perhaps a benefit once or twice. As much as the idea of sleeping with the former Buster pilot appealed to Yzak currently, his mind was suddenly shouting no and he knew he especially would not be able to talk freely with Hahnenfuss around even if he hadn't changed his mind. That would be a conversation he would murder everyone around before having.

Dearka took the last few meters at a half-run, reaching Yzak before Shiho. Yzak glared at him, annoyed that the blond was grinning and looked so good prancing around the field in the warm sunlight.

"Hey," Dearka said, his smile faltering at Yzak's coldness, "Um… I was going to ask how you've been, but it seems obvious that something's wrong, so instead I guess I'll ask what you wanted to talk about." He looked down, but it was at Yzak's feet and not his own before he brought his amethyst eyes back up to search Yzak's face.

Yzak looked away immediately, his eyes focusing on various members of the rest of the park's population. "There's nothing wrong, Elsman."

"Don't give me that, Yzak," the blond said wearily, a hint of irritation in his voice. Shiho had stopped a polite distance back from the two of them, pretending to find something utterly fascinating about the grass at her feet.

"I know," Dearka said suddenly, his voice full of optimism and only slightly fake cheer. "I'll get all of us some ice cream. You'll want vanilla, won't you and I'll have strawberry of course, which leaves…."

Dearka turned around and yelled, probably a little louder than necessary. "Shiho! What kind of ice cream do you want?"

The woman seemed only slightly startled, but it was hard to tell whether it was from the nature of the question or how Dearka had shouted.

"Vanilla," she said thoughtfully after a moment.

"Alright," Dearka said, turning back around to face Yzak. "I'll be right back."

The ZAFT captain bounded across the lawn towards the ice cream vendor, leaving Yzak alone with his fiancée and a very awkward silence. Shiho closed the remaining distance between them, and straightened up. Yzak noticed how she somehow managed to look very militant despite her civilian clothes. At this thought, the awkwardness faded a little and Yzak managed a curt nod and greeting.

"Hahnenfuss."

"Commander Joule," she replied in the same tone she always used. It was odd, Yzak decided, meeting her in an open public place and when neither of them were in uniform. It only reaffirmed his decision not to marry his second-in-command of Terminal. Unfortunately, he supposed he was still required to make small talk until Dearka returned with the ice cream. Great. How had he managed to wind up chatting uncomfortably with Hahnenfuss in public when he had originally been planning to take Dearka home and fuck him? He let out his breath in a restless sigh.

"How are you?" he asked, the friendly phrase feeling strange as it rolled over his tongue. This was definitely weird talking to her and he noted Shiho's eyebrows as they rose slightly. She was surprised too at his question, apparently, but schooled her expression. Yzak felt himself scowling; it was a normal enough question to ask.

"I'm fine, thank you, sir," she replied, wearing her civilian clothes as if they were her uniform. Then she broke her imaginary rank by looking down and Yzak even noticed her shoulders round slightly. Her voice sounded much less forceful when she spoke next, although Yzak thought it could have been his imagination. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," he said, realizing that she suddenly looked more like a girl than he had probably ever seen her before. It surprised him, but he found that he still did not think of her as especially attractive. Nice enough to look at, but he really wouldn't want to marry her. Her gaze came back up from the ground and she gave him a small smile. It seemed odd on her normally stoic visage.

Yzak mentally searched his inner inventory for more small talk, but decided the weather was too cliché and then that was the end of his list. He craned his head around to look at Dearka, wondering when he would get back so Yzak could clobber him for bringing Shiho along. With him standing here with her, everyone would be bound to think they were on some kind of date. It would be just his luck for some hard-luck news photographer to suddenly chance upon him and snap hundreds of photos that would be posted on the internet in mere minutes. Dearka had moved to the front of the line, holding one pink cone already as he pulled out his wallet. Yzak watched as Dearka paid and received another ice cream cone, which he held delicately in his other hand.

Wait… just two ice cream cones? Yzak felt his anger begin to boil. He had called Dearka here to talk to him alone, but the idiot had brought Shiho. Dearka had offered to buy ice cream for all of them, but had apparently forgotten that Yzak was there too. That bastard was really going to get it one of these days, and it seemed like the sand in the hourglass was running out.

"Hey," Dearka called when he was a few meters away. He didn't even look suddenly worried that he had forgotten to get the other ice cream cone when he laid eyes on Yzak. In fact, he looked nearly gleeful as he closed in on them, his eyes bright with… mischief?

Dearka held out the vanilla cone to Yzak. "Here's your ice cream, _love_."

Yzak blinked. His hand had already been reaching out as soon as he realized the ice cream was really for him and erasing all thoughts of splattering Dearka's brains across the green grass, but he paused as his mind registered the last syllable. Love?

Being directly in front of Dearka, Yzak did not miss the conspiratorial look the blond shot at Shiho. Her normally taciturn face transformed into the picture of devastation and confusion that was usually only found in bad daytime soap operas.

"Love?" she said, echoing Yzak's own thoughts, but much more dramatically. She looked quickly between Dearka and Yzak, and then stepped forward almost aggressively towards Dearka. "What do you mean: _love_?!" She said loudly.

A group of teenagers passing by stopped their conversation and turned their heads at the sound of her voice, but then continued after the brief pause.

"Well," Dearka stammered, drawing Yzak's attention away from the teenagers. The blond shot a furtive glance at Yzak as if for support and then stepped between him and Shiho. His posture was screaming manly resolve. "I meant that, well, I called him love."

Yzak frowned, annoyed that Dearka had stepped in front of him, but Shiho exploded into a set of what seemed to be loud scripted lines and vague angry hand gestures. "What?! Why would you do that?! You're trying to steal my fiancé, aren't you?!"

"Me?" Dearka shot back, his eyes suddenly seeming more red than blue. "_You're_ the one who's stealing! Yzak's _always_ been mine."

Yzak felt his face flush. They had set up a mock fight over him in front of whoever happened to be passing by and—Yzak glanced around—there seemed to be quite a few interested parties. This had to stop; by arguing with each other, they were making him look like some weak damsel incapable of making any kind of decision for himself.

"_Yours?!_" Shiho gasped dramatically. There was a low 'ooh' from the growing crowd of five people who apparently liked watching the lives of their fellow men being ruined on a sunny afternoon. Yzak shuddered; it really _was_ like a bad soap opera between the crowd's background noise and Shiho's poor acting. Dearka, however, was pulling it off quite well. For some reason, it didn't surprise Yzak that his friend was such a good actor, but still, for him to be able to call Yzak his without so much as a hint of it seeming otherwise….

"Yes, mine. Yzak doesn't belong with a woman," Dearka went on forcefully. He reached behind him suddenly and grabbed Yzak's wrist, pulling him forward to stand next to him. Yzak stumbled, caught slightly off balance and was forced to grab Dearka's shoulder so he wouldn't either fall or crash into him. He saw Shiho's expression change immediately to a quite believable surprise and cursed himself as he realized he had suddenly made the whole farce that much more believable.

And then there came the final straw. Yzak's temper exploded in a white-hot fury at the same moment his vanilla ice cream, leaving the safe confines of its waffle cone, hit the ground.

"Elsman!" he yelled, feeling like he just wanted to go home and punch holes in his walls, "Get your hands off me!"

"That's it, Comm- Yzak!" Shiho shouted, correcting her mistake mid-word and possibly trying to drown out Yzak's previous statement. After all, anything contrary to the ploy the other two had set up would discredit them entirely. Yzak didn't care—he was pissed. Shiho brought her hands up to her face as if she was about to cry. "We're over! If you really cared about me, you wouldn't be with him!"

Then, without giving anyone else a chance to respond and with her long brown hair flowing over her shoulders, she turned and ran from the park. Her hands covered her face, supposedly hiding the tears that bystanders would assume accompanied her heaving sobs.

Dearka turned to Yzak, releasing his wrist smoothly and giving him a snarky smile hidden from the seven or so people who were now pretending they had not gathered to watch. It was while looking over the blond's shoulder that Yzak saw a familiar-looking blue head moving closer as the rest of the crowd stepped back….

Dearka's brow crinkled as he recognized Yzak's look of utter horror, but by the time he turned, it was too late.

"Dearka? Yzak? What was that all about?" came the disturbingly familiar voice of Athrun Zala. His teal eyes watched the two of them with concern, flitting back and forth between Dearka's tan face and Yzak's pale one.

"That was _nothing_, Zala," Yzak retorted scathingly. And just when he thought this day couldn't get any worse, along comes his archenemy… who now looked a little forlorn and hurt. He turned to Dearka, hoping to get a better response. Yzak watched him from the corner of his eye as Dearka took a deep breath and steeled himself for what would hopefully be some kind of believable lie.

"Well," the former Buster pilot began, "You see, that was Shiho Hahnenfuss."

Athrun nodded, his cerulean hair catching the sun and nearly blinding Yzak with shots of blue-tinted light. Seriously, what _had_ Patrick and Lenore Zala done to their child to make absolutely everything about him so annoying?

"And," Dearka continued, oblivious or uncaring to Yzak's glowering, "She is, or maybe, _was_ engaged to Yzak."

Yzak shot Dearka a look of pure fury. "_Was_, Elsman?" Athrun watched the exchange closely.

"Well, you heard what she said, Yzak," Dearka replied patiently. It only annoyed Yzak further.

"And you never listen to what _I_ say, Elsman, and _that's_ more important, isn't it?!" Yzak shot back, punctuating his words with his index finger on the front of Dearka's shoulder. Athrun took a step back, obviously trying to stay clear of the erupting fight, but still curious as to what had actually happened.

"Just a second, Yzak, I hadn't finished explaining it to Athrun yet," the blond said, neatly sidestepping Yzak's malignant finger and his point by turning to the blunette matter-of-factly. "You see, Athrun, Yzak can't marry Shiho because he loves me."

"ELSMAN!!" Yzak roared, giving the larger ZAFT soldier a vicious shove. Dearka managed to keep his feet for two backward steps before he fell to the grass and lay there, nearly spread-eagled.

Athrun blinked at the scene, and then smiled. "I knew it."

Yzak froze. He had been on the verge of continuing to pummel Dearka until there was a hole six feet deep in the park soil, but his advance ended prematurely. He rounded on his greatest rival, icy eyes crackling fire, his whole visage twisted into a caricature of his average fury. The lean pale Coordinator was not simply angry anymore… no, Yzak now saw his own colorless figure as the embodiment of the deadliest of the seven deadly sins: Wrath.

Zala didn't stand a chance. The first blow took the small smile off his face warping it into astonishment as his head rolled back, and as the next strike hit him in the stomach, his body followed. Yzak stood tall over him, his contempt and ferocity boiled down into a single expression that hissed steam like an untamed jaguar contemplating its keeper. Athrun looked up, his expression slightly dazed.

Yzak reached down to collect the front of Athrun's shirt, but was grabbed neatly around his middle by someone behind him. A whiff of strawberry shampoo hit his senses as Dearka's low whisper tickled the hairs on his neck.

"Yzak, you really don't want to marry her, do you?"

The combination nearly made his knees go weak and his heart leapt like an awkward dolphin. His anger was gone before he could even wrap his head around the meaning behind what Dearka had said with those husky seductive syllables, Dearka's warm breath caressing his neck, his strong hands holding him—

Yzak jumped away from Dearka as if burned, staring as if his best friend had suddenly declared his allegiance to the Earth Alliance.

The adrenaline and strength left his body quite suddenly, and Yzak found himself utterly exhausted and without the strength to even care. He turned and walked away, leaving his rival on the ground and his sexy blond wondering what the hell had just happened.

* * *

_Alright, so I think this chapter is a little… well out of whack. I've had something of this scene in mind for AGES, but it didn't really play out quite like how I imagined. And well, no one's proofread it, so let me know where I messed things up, please. Thanks for reading, and so sorry it took so long… I've been way out of it for a while. But I'm planning on wrapping this story up pretty quickly, so stay tuned._


	6. Chapter 6

**The Tennis Match**

**Chapter Six: Attraction and Reaction**

* * *

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Dearka knocked thrice on the hotel door. There was no answer. He sighed, realizing he was tense when the situation didn't call for it. He leaned into the door and called softly.

"Yzak? You in there?"

Silence greeted his query.

"It's me, Dearka, obviously… but, I, uh, wanted to talk to you."

The silence was beginning to grate on Dearka's nerves, but if there was anything he had learned from being Yzak Joule's best friend, it was patience.

"Can I come in?"

Finally, he heard the muffled footfalls approach the door. A latch clicked and the door opened several inches. Dearka took what he was given and pulled the door open fully, prepared to enter the bowels of Hell.

He stopped mid-stride, halfway across the threshold. The picture he had painted in his mind of Yzak's room didn't match the reality of the situation around him. The suite was completely dark except for a single lamp near the bed in the corner, tousled blankets all over the floor, pillows and cushions strewn about with disregard… and Yzak….

Dearka suddenly felt like the world's biggest idiot looking at the wreckage he had allowed his best friend to become. No, he amended, the wreckage _he had caused_. The pale youth stood out like a sorrowful ghost in the dark room, his hair an untidy explosion, his skin darker under his eyes as if sleep perpetually eluded him, wearing only a large t-shirt and boxers, and wrapped in a blanket. He looked completely and utterly pathetic, like a kitten that had gotten lost and had only managed to find a cardboard box after the rain stopped. Yzak was in a state that Dearka had never seen his former commander in.

And it nearly broke his heart.

He stepped inside cautiously, shutting the door carefully behind him. It made a barely audible click and Dearka was forced to again acknowledge what a mess Yzak was.

"Hey…" he began, not really knowing how to proceed. Yzak watched him for a moment with dull eyes, before turning abruptly and stalking deeper into the room. It had efficiently cut off any response Dearka had considered, and he had no choice but to follow the pale wraith towards the tiny patch of light.

It was shocking, the effect his little prank had on his best friend. If Dearka had known Yzak would transform into something like this… he stopped as he watched Yzak step straight onto the bed, bare feet depressing the mattress. When he reached the center, Yzak seemed to crumple down into a sitting position, the blanket still wrapped around him. He looked back at Dearka, his icy eyes unreadable except for a faint redness. Dearka swallowed uncomfortably. Had Yzak been crying? And why was he allowing anyone, even Dearka, to see him like this?

"So?" Yzak said simply, nearly making Dearka jump. "What do you want?"

Dearka flicked his tongue over his lips, wetting them, before attempting an answer. Yzak's eyes lost a bit of their dullness, the spark of life illuminating them from behind as his gaze lingered on the slight movement. The blond wondered suddenly if Yzak could smell fear; it was the way Yzak's eyes watched him like he was prey. Dearka put the thought out of his head. He was here to… apologize.

Dearka sighed. "Yzak…."

"What?" came the snappy response before Dearka had even managed to draw another breath. Silver hair swished as Yzak jerked his head sideways while narrowing his eyes to look towards the blank television screen. Dearka could tell by the lines of his friend's shoulders through the blankets that Yzak was suddenly moving beyond anger rapidly. Yzak's jaw clenched, his mouth distorting into a snarl. Dearka found himself hesitating.

"So?! Why the fuck are you here, Elsman?!" Yzak exploded, twisting snakelike towards Dearka. The blond stumbled backwards, nearly falling over a fallen couch cushion in his haste to get clear. He couldn't read Yzak right now and it terrified him. Had he pushed the colorless youth too far? Was their friendship at an end?

Yzak suddenly slumped at the edge of the bed, a puppet with his strings severed. Silver hair and shadows covered his downturned porcelain face and Dearka got the distinct impression that all the energy had left Yzak's body without warning.

"Sorry," Yzak mumbled from under his hair. He pulled the blankets up to his chin and rolled over backwards so that he was lying on the bed with his back to Dearka.

The tanned man could only blink, stunned at Yzak's dramatic change in behavior. That, and Yzak never apologized. Not to mention that Dearka was there to apologize to Yzak… it wasn't supposed to be the other way around. What the hell had happened to Yzak? Dearka suddenly didn't feel confident that the prank was the only thing eating at his best friend. Maybe his mother had called? Maybe… Dearka's mind raced in a million different directions, trying to figure out if it was really all his fault. No, it couldn't be solely his, it just couldn't be, Dearka never screwed up _this_ badly….

"No, Yzak," Dearka began firmly, "I'm the one who's sorry."

There was no response from the pile of blankets on the bed. Dearka warily approached the bed, finding his words as he stepped over the fallen pillows.

"Look, I screwed up, I know. I shouldn't have done that without telling you… wait, no, I shouldn't have done that at all. You were against the idea from the start and I'm sorry that I—"

"Shut up, Elsman." Even though Dearka had been cut off, Yzak didn't sound angry. Just weary, as if the light had gone from the world and he no longer cared.

"No, Yzak, let me finish, alright? I said I'm sorry and I'm an idiot and I didn't mean it and I'll never do anything like that—"

"I said shut up!"

"—again," Dearka finished, ignoring Yzak's outburst despite how the silver haired man had been shouting again. Dearka reached the side of the bed, and after watching the mass of blankets and sheets and silver hair for a few moments to make sure it didn't leap at him, he carefully sat into the mattress.

"Dearka," Yzak said suddenly, rolling over. The lamp caught his eyes and they sparkled, ice refracting into a million pieces, contrasting sharply with shadowy ivory of his skin. Dearka found that the breath had left his body, but he couldn't quite understand why—whether it was fear or something else that had caused it. He waited for Yzak to continue, but all he received was the eye contact, a strange ache vaguely apparent in the depths of Yzak's sapphire orbs.

"Dearka," Yzak repeated, this time nearly a whisper. The blond found himself holding his breath, wondering what would fall from Yzak's lips next and praying he wouldn't miss it. His eyes were still hypnotized by Yzak's pale blue ones that were glazed over in a wash of ice. Dearka waited, swallowing slowly, his heart a dull thump in his ears.

Without warning, Yzak broke the eye contact, squeezing his eyes shut as if the sight of Dearka pained him.

"Get out of here," Yzak moaned angrily, rolling back over. Creamy hands yanked the blankets violently over his silver head.

Dearka blinked, confused and his head swirling as if he had just been rescued from drowning. The oxygen flooded back in, and he remembered why he was there.

"Yzak?" He started carefully, trying not to anger the pale demon any further, even if it was a lost cause. His gaze softened as he realized that it wasn't Yzak's fault; Dearka deserved whatever punishment Yzak saw fit to give him. It wasn't as if Yzak had been the one to ruin their friendship.

"I just wanted you to know that I'm no going to pretend anymore. For your sake, you know."

* * *

"_He's not himself anymore, Shiho… I don't know what I've done."_

Shiho sighed into the phone. "It was your idea, Dearka. You can't come complaining to me about it. Take responsibility for your actions; you're a ZAFT soldier."

"_You don't get it, do you?!"_ Shiho gritted her teeth… no, of course she didn't get it. Why was Dearka Elsman calling _her_ when he got in a fight with Yzak? Her military political correctness prevented her from yelling at him, but surely she could manage to figure out how to shut him up through other means if she put her mind to it.

"_Yzak was displaying clinically weird behavior patterns!"_

"He's always been that way, Dearka," Shiho answered dryly. "And I don't believe 'weird' is a clinical term."

"_You're missing the point! I don't know how to talk to him and he's my best friend."_ The pain in Dearka's voice was real, Shiho realized, but it didn't stop her head from continuing to pound. Even if the commander was going through some kind of crisis, surely it could wait until tomorrow? Or was this another excuse for Dearka to call her? Was he _trying_ to keep her from getting sleep? She crossed that idea off her list quickly, knowing it was simply her irritation getting the best of her. Obviously, Dearka was worried about Yzak Joule… it was just that Shiho found that for once, she didn't care.

The last few days had been a blur. Her sudden engagement to her own commander without her consent, then having to deal with her ex-coworker flirtations, and her own indecision in whether she was even making the right choice in breaking if off with Yzak before anything had started. It was easy enough to say that Yzak was a type A asshole—because it was most often true—but it was harder to make herself believe that when her job was to follow his every command and she found him a more than competent leader. She knew she wavered somewhere between professional distance and the faintest possibility of attraction when it came to Yzak, and then along came Dearka Elsman. He oozed charm from every sun-tanned pore, flashing smiles that gave most girls fainting spells, and proceeded to direct it at Shiho when he was supposed to be pointing it at Yzak. As if she didn't have enough problems already. She supposed the female population of ZAFT and a large portion of Terminal would maim to be in her position, caught somewhere between Yzak Joule and Dearka Elsman, but….

They didn't know what it was like to be ready for bed and have the blond on the phone whining about the silver haired man. It was like a damn soap opera, and she was stuck somehow as the third-wheel best friend trying to mend the lover's relationship—

Shiho shook herself. That wasn't what it was like at all… was it? Her mind gave her a fuzzy answer that she blamed on lack of sleep. If those two really _were_ gay, then why would they be fighting at all over Dearka's antics at the park? Shiho hit her forehead with her palm, hoping to wake herself up some more. Honestly, she should just tell Dearka to call her back in the morning, clearly she wasn't thinking straight.

"_Shiho? I just… don't have a clue on how to make things right."_ Scratch that, Shiho needed to ask him to never call her again. How did she end up as his psychologist? Surely Dearka could be more attractive than this if he tried….

"Dearka," she said finally, "What makes you think I have a clue?"

There was silence on the other line, and Shiho crossed her fingers in the hope that Dearka was actually thinking about her words. Next he would apologize, say good night, and hang—

"_I told him I'm not going to pretend I love him anymore. The plan's off, Shiho."_ Dearka sounded weary, but Shiho suddenly found herself wide-awake.

"What do you mean, 'the plan is off?'" she asked sharply into the phone. It took a moment for her to realize she was gripping the phone tighter than necessary and she slowly relaxed her fingers.

"_I'm not going to put Yzak through that, Shiho. I was only doing it for his own good in the beginning, but obviously, it's detrimental to his health. Or mental state. Or something."_ Shiho could hear Dearka sigh into the phone. This was bad.

"But I can't marry him! He's my commander," Shiho told him, losing her cool. Sure, the two could fight all they wanted amongst themselves, but if they didn't convince Ezaria Joule her son was gay, she would have to marry him. And yes, maybe she _had_ thought about it, because who wouldn't imagine what it would be like to be married to your fiancé? But she had realized that if she hadn't come up with the idea herself, it wasn't best to pursue it. Shiho Hahnenfuss would only marry someone of her own choosing, stubborn as she was. She had decided that Yzak Joule was not that person.

"_Then think of something else that he can actually agree to, Shiho… although at this point…. I just don't know."_

"Glad to hear that, Dearka," Shiho said, feeling distinctly like she was not at her best. Why was Dearka so upset when _she_ was the one who was going to have to marry the man Dearka now claimed to be psychotic? Sure, they were best friends, but she was going to have to be his wife if they didn't think of something else. The fuzzy cat in her mind stretched, still present even though she had lost her grogginess. Why did a part of her believe there was something else going on under the surface here?

"_And I officially feel like shit. Fuck. What have I done?"_

Shiho felt the cat dig in some claws. Dearka, crude as he was in many ways, hardly ever swore. Especially in front of women. Her headache kicked up another notch as she realized they were back to square one in the marriage department, and that the blond didn't seem like he'd be able to help anymore. So, maybe that meant she and Yzak were now at square negative one. But if Dearka was out of the picture, why did he care so much? Could there possibly be…?

Shiho closed her eyes and counted to three. "I don't know, Dearka. But perhaps you should be asking yourself what to do now? How are you going to get Yzak back?"

There was a pause on the other end of the phone. Shiho digested her own words, realizing they sounded just like the third-wheel best friend. It was time to go to sleep, overthrowing the marriage be damned.

"_That's just the problem… I don't know how to get him back."_ Dearka's voice sounded small and Shiho wondered if he was scared or if it was just the static over the phone. Then she realized that she didn't really care.

"Dearka, the only advice I can offer is this: go to sleep. Because that's what I'm about to do."

Without waiting for a reply, Shiho hung up on him, glad that she could at least feel good about one thing even if her future was looking distinctly pale and angry.

* * *

It was amazing the difference a simple realization could wreak on his life.

Yzak considered losing himself in mindless television dramas, contemplating getting the remote, but found he didn't even have the energy to reach the whole two feet to where it lay on the night table. He found himself shivering in the blankets instead, the physical symptoms something he had never imagined.

His mind drifted back to the moments Dearka had been there, his golden skin nearly glowing in the soft light. He had come to say something, but before he had really gotten it out, he had licked his lips and Yzak had been lost. How was it that the sexy blond had done that purposefully at the restaurant and Yzak had refused to notice? How could a single insight change how he saw everything so completely?

Yzak knew it now. Painfully, achingly, hurting from the very pleasure of it, Yzak was in love.

From the way Dearka ran a hand through his tousled blond curls to the way his skin shimmered under a locker room shower, Yzak couldn't get enough. He wanted to feel the smooth skin under his fingertips, wanted the tantalizing lips under his own, and the mere thought of Dearka in his ZAFT-distributed spandex made Yzak's knees go weak. He could hardly contemplate what it would be like if Dearka were _out_ of his ZAFT-distributed anything, feeling his heartbeat pick up, his breath coming in pants as he let his imagination run wild all over Dearka's body.

Yet it wasn't just his body. Dearka was intelligent, sexy, and fun-loving, but knew the importance of working hard when it counted. They had survived wars together, fighting alongside each other, but Yzak also remembered how it felt to point a gun at his best friend. He remembered better how it felt to lower that gun and trust in Dearka. The blond knew how to keep Yzak from losing his cool and then when he did, Dearka always seemed to know how to bring him back down to reality. Dearka had been his constant companion until Yzak had moved into Terminal, and had been the only thing he had regretted leaving when he had made the move. He had loved Dearka then, too, but hadn't understood it until now. He had always loved Dearka… the incident after tennis had scared him because it had hit too close to home without him really comprehending.

And then Yzak had come so close to spilling his heart out. He had rolled over, intent on telling his golden god the truth, but had gotten lost in those liquid purple eyes so close to his own. He had been reminded of his dream, just by looking at those eyes, the lamplight providing the illusion of fire that had been so apparent in his dream. And Yzak had been lost again, spiraled completely out of control, but not caring, let his eyes drift over the dark skin of Dearka's face, drinking in every detail. He had whispered his name, softly, letting it escape his lips without thinking, noticing how different it sounded suddenly. And Dearka had continued to watch him, unblinking, and that's when Yzak had realized suddenly that he was acting too strange and Dearka had already said he would never do anything that made Yzak love him more again. It wasn't those exact words, but to Dearka, it was all pretend anyway, and now the game was up. _For his sake._

It had hurt terribly then, the ache spreading from his chest into his throat. It leapt out like a wild beast, the words that made Dearka leave. He had tried to hide, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep emotions like that off his face. They were too big, too unwieldy, too unfamiliar for him. And the words that Dearka had spoken after that… those were like poisonous barbed spears, stuck in his heart, sending their deadly poison throughout his body.

Dearka wasn't going to pretend… for Yzak's sake. Well, Dearka be damned, it was too late. Yzak would have played along forever now, let himself be played by a seductive smile and tanned hands. Wasn't it just his luck that the moment he realized what he wanted, the offer was retracted?

Yzak felt himself hit the edge of despair. Dearka was out of reach, probably chasing after Yzak's own fiancée, the two of them unaware of how well their plan had worked its magic. He felt something hot slide along his face, falling to wet the blanket wrapped around him. He shivered again, loving his torture and hating his pleasure, the two so intermingled that it was all the same. He fell to his side, pulling the blanket tighter around himself, and felt his breath hitch. Why was love so painful? How could Dearka do this to him? Why didn't he hate the blond for making him like this? Why couldn't Dearka just love him back…?

Yzak shuddered into his blanket, feeling his throat swell enough so that it was difficult to swallow. The hot salty liquid skimmed sideways down his face, from across the bridge of his nose to the side of his face where it met the mattress. What he would give right now to have Dearka hold him and kiss away the tears….

* * *

_Yay! Another chapter! Okay, sorry for the really long wait, faithful readers. I managed to pick up an amazing beta (The Angelic Demoness), but she's been rather busy with all sorts of things, so there was some delay between writing and betaing and rewriting. But thanks for your patience and with summer nearly here, the ending should be coming soon… I've managed to plan it all out and it should be eight chapters and an epilogue, although knowing myself, the chance that it changes as I'm writing it is high. Please continue reading! Thank you and the button is right below here. You know you want to click it._


	7. Chapter 7

**The Tennis Match**

**Chapter Seven: Hell and Honesty**

* * *

Dearka couldn't quite believe he was actually going to go through with it. Yes, he had mentally rehearsed every word, went jogging to release the extra tension that aligned itself with his nerves, took a hot shower to relax and clean up, and finally put on his ZAFT uniform for the first time since he had gone on leave.

Now he was sitting in the waiting room of the Joule mansion and although he'd been there several times before, at this moment he felt like he'd rather be facing off the Strike Freedom in a one-on-one duel. At least if he were fighting Kira, he knew the soft-hearted boy would never intentionally disembowel him.

Ezaria Joule, on the other hand, most certainly would… with a smile.

"Lady Joule is ready to see you now," came a butler's deep voice. Dearka nearly had a heart attack, unaware that the formidable bodyguard had entered the room. He tried to calm his racing heart, but felt the distinct despair of a losing battle closing in. So he stood, smiling tightly at the butler and hoping it looked convincing enough to at least fool one person. It certainly wasn't helping him relax, despite how smiling was supposed to release endorphins and in theory, the very act… thoughts trailed off as he swallowed uncomfortably.

The man didn't seem to register Dearka's friendly look, instead turning sharply and obviously expecting the blond to follow. 'Like a sheep to slaughter,' supplied Dearka's overactive and nervous imagination. He tried to quash the thought by noting the difference since his last visit, a new cabinet there, a cushioned chair here… but those imposing Victorian-style doors were uncomfortably familiar to his lavender eyes as he approached them.

"This way, sir," the butler intoned, and perhaps Dearka was imagining it, but it sounded as if there was an undercurrent of menace in his voice. Dearka tried to smile lightheartedly in response, but even that failed him now, and he wiped the terrified grimace off his face. He'd rather deadpan his expression than look like a rabbit caught under the foot of a mobile suit.

The butler opened the doors, revealing the mistress of the Joule household, enthroned at the end of rather large table. Ezaria was looking through a folder, a few papers arranged in neat piles in front of her. She wore her beautiful looks, elegant dress suit, and simple jewelry like a sophisticated lioness. Dearka found that his feet had stopped moving as soon as he crossed the threshold of her den. Something instinctive within him had declared he was prey and his gut rolled over in its grave.

Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to run, Dearka's military training held his feet steady and his back straight as he saluted Yzak's mother, the former chair of the Defense Council.

"Dearka Elsman," Ezaria acknowledged, "It's been some time, hasn't it? I think the last time I saw you was at your… acquittal, wasn't it?"

Dearka's heart skipped not only one, but several beats and he mentally cursed himself. He hadn't readied himself for any topic outside of his prepared subject. Of course, he should have remembered that during the same series of trials he had been released from the death penalty, Yzak's mother had been stripped of her office. Yzak had been the man to publicly vouch for Dearka, effectively saving his life, but it also had been the only time he had really gone against his mother. There was no way for Yzak to say Dearka was really a hero in the First Bloody Valentine War and that his mother had also been making the correct choices. Dearka had even been able to remain in ZAFT, albeit with a reduced rank. On the other hand, Ezaria Joule would probably never view the trial as something to be thankful for considering the damage it had done to her reputation and livelihood. Dearka managed a weak smile in return.

"Yes, I think it was." He tried not to gulp his fears down loudly, but couldn't be sure of his effectiveness. Why on earth was Yzak's mother so intimidating? And what in the PLANTs was he supposed to say next? His lips stumbled over the only words that came to him. "It's… good to see that you are well."

Fuck. He hadn't even asked how she was doing yet. What if she wasn't feeling well? Idiocy seemed to be his only guide, so he kept his mouth shut, knowing if he tried to fix his mistake, he'd only be digging his metaphoric hole deep enough to be a grave.

"Thank you," Ezaria replied smoothly. She paused then, scrutinizing his crisp military figure, and Dearka felt himself break out in a sweat. He ignored the urge to fidget with his hands or shift his weight, knowing she would definitely see his uncharacteristic nervousness with those moves if she hadn't seen the signs of it already. Thankfully, she glanced down, shifting some papers, and continued, "Let's get right to the point. What brings you here, Dearka?"

Direct. Like mother, like son. She also used only his first name, something she had done since he was a child and it made him feel more like one. Her piercing blue eyes, also like Yzak's, lanced into him, and Dearka felt queasy. The woman looked as if she already knew everything he had come to say… and didn't approve. No wonder Yzak was as Type A as he was. The poor boy must have had to get everything perfect the first time if he wanted to survive interactions with his mother.

And he was stalling, trying to stave off the inevitable just a little bit longer. Dearka wet his lips. It was now or never, and never had already lost because he was already here, standing across from Yzak's mother.

"I don't know what you've heard, or…" he paused, wincing at the lack of coordination in his words. He took a deep breath and started again, thinking only that once he finished, at least he wouldn't have to fear Hell after he died because this was it.

"Yzak… never wanted to marry Shiho Hahnenfuss, but he didn't want to disappoint you. Shiho never wanted to marry Yzak, either, but she and her family didn't want to… reject your favor. Or slight you. So, she and I came up with a plan that wouldn't hurt anyone, and yet neither would have to get married. The thing is that, well, Yzak never really agreed—actually, he didn't agree at all—to this… plan. And now… well, I screwed up. So, whatever you've heard, don't think badly of your son. It's not his fault. It's mine and I apologize for what I've put him through because he's…."

Words failed Dearka as his mind reformed the image of the last time he had seen Yzak. How was he supposed to explain that to the man's mother? And good god, the memory _hurt_. Dearka's throat closed up, and he couldn't get out any more words even if he had known what to say. Ezaria was still watching him through a frozen and quite unreadable mask.

"…Upset that you pretended the two of you were gay?" she finished smoothly, as if she were clarifying that her goldfish had been fed. Dearka had expected his stomach to drop all the way to Earth the moment he knew she knew, but all he came up with was a strange hollow feeling where his stomach was supposed to be. He found himself nodding miserably even though she was looking back at some papers on her desk. If she had already known, why hadn't she done anything about it? Why had she let Dearka go off and hurt Yzak that badly? Didn't she care about her only son who worshipped the ground she walked on and loved her unconditionally?

"So you've come to apologize to me," Ezaria said, her tone still business-like. She set a cover sheet down, and turned her gaze up to the blond. "All I want to know is whether you've apologized to him, Dearka."

Her eyes left no room for argument and Dearka was glad he had gone to see Yzak first, even if the retinal burn of the image of his best friend in such pain was terrifying.

"Yes," he said thickly, his tongue still in the way and his throat not wide enough to swallow easily.

"Then that's all, isn't it?" She looked down again, and he recognized it as one of the moves Commander Le Creuset had always used for dismissal.

"But-" Dearka gasped like a fish floundering on the shore, "what about the wedding? You're not going to make him marry Shiho, are you?"

Dearka knew the moment the words left his mouth that he had crossed the line. Ezaria's eyes came up to his, her whole body left the chair, and she _smiled_ at him across the table.

"Well, the marriage certainly isn't any of your concern, Dearka Elsman… unless I'm quite mistaken?"

The question hung in the air like a poison fog, stiflingly heavy and dangerously lethal. Dearka was sure the woman was going to disembowel him now.

"No, it's not," Dearka accepted quietly, before he suffocated from the toxins. Now to appease the former Defense Chairman. "I'm sorry, that wasn't my place."

She sat back down, the smile leaving her face to be replaced with the hint of a frown. Dearka didn't know whether he found it reassuring or… like he'd missed something. Ezaria suddenly didn't seem so menacing, but perhaps… concerned. For herself, for Yzak, or even Dearka, he couldn't tell, but it was highly disconcerting to realize he quite suddenly had no idea where he stood with the woman. She might not rip out his entrails, but he felt so unsteady that it wouldn't take much for anyone to push his mind off the cliff of sanity.

"I'll just go now," Dearka continued, feeling more like he'd rather run. He saluted again, feeling that the gesture was appropriate. "By your leave, Mrs. Joule."

"Go ahead, Dearka," she replied, and Dearka wondered if he were crazy to hear a hint of weariness in her tight voice. She waved him out with one hand, and looked back down to her paperwork. Again, dismissed, but the atmosphere was different, and that was unsettling.

He turned, his spine prickling as his back faced her, but strode forward through the door. His boots clicked on the hard wood floor, pausing as he reached out to open the heavy doors.

The bodyguard-turned-butler opened them from the other side and as Dearka crossed back into the waiting room, he couldn't help but wonder whether he was more confused and powerless now than before he had arrived.

* * *

The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that Ezaria Joule had purposely not told him whether or not she planned on continuing with the unholy matrimony of Yzak and Shiho. Half of his plan had been convincing her not to force Yzak to ask for Shiho's hand, and yet… his only conclusion was his own epic failure. He had apologized, yes, but then the woman hadn't even cared. It was frustrating, and Dearka felt more at a loss about what to do than ever. Yzak was still dead to the world, locked up in his own grief at what Dearka had done. Ezaria didn't seem to care about her son's well-being and had probably been toying with him the entire time, enjoying watching Dearka squirm in her presence. And Shiho? Admittedly, calling her last night hadn't been a great idea, and she had had every right to hang up on him. But that meant that now even the beautiful pants-wearing woman was angry with him.

Sure, he could wallow in self-pity at the mess he created, but typically, that wasn't his style.

What he should do right now was get laid. Yes, that was a sensible, Dearka-like thing to do when he was stressed beyond all belief and everyone seemed to think he was a jerk. Find a sexy little blonde creature that would litter affection across his skin and simply relax for a night. Maybe he'd find one with blue eyes to boot. He'd always liked fair-skinned women with light complexions; they were usually just as sensitive as they looked.

Groaning in frustration, Dearka rolled over onto his back. His creamy comforter was still taut across his made bed, his body causing a neat indentation. Unfortunately, he knew he wasn't about to leave his house and pick up a hot babe at some flashy nightclub. Shit, he didn't even have the energy to call for a relatively cheap whore. Not after facing up with Yzak's mom… not that those two thoughts should ever be placed next to each other. He shuddered.

Dearka sat up suddenly, wiping at his eyes as if that would clear his mind. Tired he may be, but none of his problems had disappeared.

Perhaps he should go visit Yzak again? It hadn't been more than 24 hours since the man had told him to get out of his hotel room. Maybe it was still too early to see him. Maybe Yzak would never want to see him again…. Dearka sighed. Yzak was definitely the kind of person to hold a life-long grudge. Dearka had witnessed it with his own eyes: take Zala or Yamato as examples of good people on the bad side of the white commander. He surprised himself with a bitter laugh. Would Elsman be added to that list now?

But if he were out of the picture, who would Yzak have to call a friend?

Perhaps that was the hardest part. Dearka knew that Yzak was so strict and disciplined that he rarely made friends. Sure, he had allies, and people respected him, but it was Dearka that Yzak always turned to when he wanted to talk or just hang out. Kudos to the only and best friend who had just screwed things up so badly that Yzak would probably stay friendless for the rest of his life if only to keep from being treated so poorly.

Why did everything always lead back to how Dearka had wounded their friendship beyond repair? He spiraled down headfirst into his remembered mistakes. Even if Yzak did speak to him again, there would always be a subtle difference, something had happened, and it wasn't something Yzak was going to ignore like….

…Like the mishap in the showers after their tennis match.

Was that also Dearka's fault? And could Yzak really ignore it? Dearka rubbed at his temples, feeling the beginning of a headache and realizing that thinking about it wasn't helping. Maybe being intelligent just wasn't his strong point. He knew he wasn't as smart as his classmates had given him credit for in the Academy, having cheated his way through most of it and been charismatic enough to fool his teachers for the rest. And the army itself had been surprisingly similar. He just wrote official reports instead of class assignments. Used a real mobile suit instead of the simulations. Yzak, on the other hand, had always done his homework, always thought things through so he didn't wind up making poor decisions—

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

The pounding at his door startled Dearka out of his Yzak-centric thoughts, and into a single question. Who in the PLANTs would use their fist rather than the doorbell?

"Dearka Elsman! Open up this door!!"

Obviously Shiho would, her loud muffled voice echoing throughout the house. Why was it the one moment when he felt the least like flirting with her that the woman would show up willingly at his house? He debated not opening the door, wondering whether Shiho would break it down and come drag him off his bed. The thought did not appeal to him, even though he knew he had imagined that very scenario before. He must really be out of it, he realized weakly, his mind slipping back into his self-loathing. He climbed off the bed, his feet instinctively finding the way to the door. The blond opened it up, nearly meeting Shiho's fist as she prepared knock again.

"What do you want, Shiho?" His voice sounded weary, even to himself as he slouched in the doorway.

She was silent as she took his appearance in, her lips pressing together into a thin, pinched line. Dearka could imagine himself, blond hair mussed from fingers constantly raking through it, his violet eyes faintly bloodshot from little sleep, and his ZAFT-issue teal shirt untucked from his maroon pants.

"You look like hell," she stated bluntly, her honest nature quite apparent. "What happened?"

Dearka sighed and swung the door open entirely, leaning up against the wall out of her way. As much as he would rather be alone right now, Shiho deserved to be clued in about his meeting with Yzak's mom. Shiho stepped inside, and closed the door behind them.

"Have you spoken to the Commander? Is that what this is about?" she asked. Dearka could tell her brusque tones were meant to jolt him out of his present state of mind, but he also knew it was not working. He had utterly betrayed Yzak's trust and something like that didn't simply disappear.

He shook his head. "Shiho… I spoke with Yzak's mother."

Her eyes widened in shock, a touch of pity and fear accessorizing her expression. "Oh no, she didn't…."

Dearka couldn't bring himself to look her in the face, a bitter taste rising into his mouth as he spoke. "I told her the truth, Shiho. You'll probably have to marry Yzak."

There was a long pause in which neither of them moved, until finally, Dearka lifted his eyes to Shiho. Her face was pale and motionless, her eyes focused somewhere on the blank wall to his left.

Of course Shiho would now hate him as well. Gee, what a great couple few days this had been. First, he turns his closest friend into a moody, walking corpse, then he embarrasses himself in front of one of the most powerful women in the solar system, and finally, like the icing on the cake, he pretty much guarantees the wedding of the one woman who he thought was different to his now ex-best friend. But for everything else that had gone wrong, Dearka's mind brought him back to Yzak and Yzak alone. Dearka was the worst; after agreeing to help thwart the marriage, he had been the one to seal it. He ran a hand through his hair, sweeping it away from his scalp.

"Shiho…" Dearka began, knowing that he needed to say something, but not knowing exactly what. It was proof of how low he was when he didn't know the right thing to say to a woman.

Several moments passed before the Terminal woman moved, straightening up and swallowing. "Well," she began, and Dearka could tell already that she was trying to cover up the shakiness in her words. "At least I know him already. That is to say… in some arranged marriages, the couple doesn't really know each other at all, right?"

Dearka felt part of himself go numb, half of his world spinning in waves of vertigo. The other part, however, got angry. Shiho couldn't marry Yzak! She couldn't just accept it this easily! She would just have to say no, now or at the altar, it didn't matter, as long as it happened. She had to know that… she _had_ to.

"Shiho, you don't intend to really marry him, right?" Something about Dearka's voice must have caught her off guard because she jerked her head over to look at him.

"Oh really, Dearka, what else do you think I'm going to do?!" she retorted angrily, losing her temper slightly to produce the sarcastic bite.

"Obviously you can just tell him no!" Dearka shot back, lack of sleep and his crappy life of late making an argument look like a good idea.

"No, I can't, _remember_?! We've been over that line of reasoning before, Elsman, which is why all of this… this… this _shit_ is happening!" Shiho's fierce glower ripped into him as her voice rose to a shout.

"Oh, trust me, Shiho, I _know_ I screwed up," Dearka replied, raising his tanned hands in front of himself, before abruptly waving an explanatory finger in the air, "But I was only here to help Yzak, and you know what? Suddenly I'm not caring so much about your reputation, Hahnenfuss. I think you're going to tell Yzak no, your reputation be damned."

"So that's how you're going to play this?" Her eyes narrowed, her head shaking slightly. "But of course! All you ever do is use women and then discard them whenever it's convenient."

"Is _that_ what you've always thought of me, Hahnenfuss? Well, if that's the case, then I'm surprised you ever showed your face to me!" Dearka realized dimly that he was getting off subject, that this argument was for Yzak's sake and it really didn't concern what women thought of him.

"_I_ wasn't the one who called you to help us! I never asked for you help!" Shiho pointed out vigorously.

"I'm doing this for both of you! I want you two to be _happy_!" Dearka yelled back.

"You want _me _to be happy? Is _that_ what you want, Elsman? _Really_?" Shiho argued, dramatically surprised.

"That's what I said!"

"You know, I can't do this anymore. I can't. I'm done." Shiho finished, her voice light, and throwing up her hands in exasperation. "What is it that you really want, Dearka? Answer that and maybe you'll get somewhere in life."

Dearka opened his mouth to argue back, but the answer never came. Time froze, his mind seizing up, tripping over the words, breaking down the question into meaningful chunks of sound. What did he really want?

_Yzak…._

_

* * *

_

_So... I'm sure no one really expected me to continue this (despite whatever I say, but hey, who actually reads my one-in-awhile updates on my profile?). Thanks to anyone that IS still reading though... I checked the last time I updated this and it's been over a year. Yeah, it's late, but better late than never, right? I think I've mentioned this before, but the plan is to wrap this fic up in the next chapter. And then a little epilogue for you all. We're almost done! Hang in there folks!_

_As always, thanks to my beta, The Angelic Demoness for getting the final touches up on the last draft back to me... in a few hours. If that's not a quick turnaround, I don't know what is. XD  
_


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